Carmen Says. . .

Healthcare for the people

2010-03-24T19:03:00.002-04:00

Are we back in the 20s? The disrespect, denegration and dishonor directed toward this healthcare change is disgusting, and demonstrates how far we have not come. If I may be blunt, Barack Obama has gotten one thing wrong. By not addressing disrespect directed at him in the past, he has allowed the floodgates to be opened on a tidalwave of raw sewage racism and hate that I don't see retreating anytime soon. There were only six Presidents brave enough to tackle healthcare reform, and they were not so maligned as has been President Obama. Theodore Roosevelt 1912, Truman 1945, Johnson 1965, Nixon 1974, Ford 1976 and Clinton 1993.

The question now becomes with people like Palin telling citizens to "reload," what will be our country's legacy? Will we become Pakistan? Killing over any deicsion we don't agree with? Fighting because we don't want our neighbor to have the same coverage as someone else because they don't have the same economic footprint? It's a shame that our citizens are afraid of what equal really means. I recall a foreign man once saying he admired our government because when we lost a race, we did so with dignity and grace, whereas his country had not, in his lifetime, ever changed power smoothly. I fear we are here now. I watched TV Sunday and listened as a story was recited of a woman who was dying of a most heinous form of cancer. On the way to surgery, the woman was informed that her insurance coverage was being canceled. The Republican Senator waited a beat then said nobody healthcare reform. I wondered if we were watching the same show.

I recall a racist co-worker once saying for me to stay in my place. I promptly reminded her my place had until that moment always been where ever she'd needed me. I was the watchdog when patients became unruly, or whenever she became uncomfortable with someone she couldn't quite understand because their accent was a little too thick. My place had been whereever I was needed until I wasn't needed anymore. I remember the time she referred to my grandmother as a mammy. I thought, I got your mammy. My hands shook as I filled out the application for graduate school. I went and, my God, did I graduate! You know, she didn't have a degree at all, but she was of a hue and a mindset that allowed her to think she was better and entitled to utter such words of ignorance and stupidity.

My place, I've decided is in academia, on educational boards that help students make life-changing decisions about the direction of their lives. My place is to be a best-selling author, speaker, activist and storyteller. Someone who changes lives rather than squashes dreams. My place is to seek greatness because it is only in the quest to be the best that we find the real gems of what "might" really means. My place is where ever I want it to be. She couldn't stop me; only I have that power.

Just as I needed support from family and friends, so does our President. He didn't win alone, and we shouldn't leave him alone now. If you need healthcare, defend it. Speak up for it and make your voices heard. It's time to stop letting others act as if they are the only ones who care about what's going on in our lives. We're important, too. Your place is where you make it. Speak up for it.

Helping Haitians

2010-02-23T15:49:00.003-05:00

I don't know anyone who wasn't affected by the tragic earthquake in Haiti. I, for one know if my house had been shaken to the ground, and I was fortunate enough to live, I'd stumble around not knowing the first thing about how to live outside. I know a little about first aid, but nothing about how to make water potable, which leaves to eat, or which ones to stay away from. I'd be the first one trying to remember my Camp Fire Girl training--remember them? Riiight. We did way too much singing and not enough wound care. I worked in a doctor's office for four years, and I've seen my share of sad and even unsightly things. I'm not squeamy. I even know how to insert an IV, not that anyone wants me putting anything in their veins. Still, I'm all about saving lives and helping others. So when I read New York Times columnist Deborah Sontag's article, Countless Lost Limbs Alters Lives in Haiti's Ruins, it spoke to my heart. I, like a lot of you have kids, and if your kids were or are anything like mine, they have crutches. My son thought he could fly. Enough said. He had two pairs of crutches. My daughter played basketball and slid into a wall. I know it's a running sport. Years ago I had two foot surgeries. Crutches for us were like Christmas tree ornaments. Needless to say, we used them for the time we needed them, and now they're just dusting up corners. Someone can use them, and when I read Deborah's article it occurred to me that our cast off crutches could be someone elses blessing. So I decided to be proactive and have a Crutches and Cane drive for Haitians. I'd like to collect 500 pairs. The donation sites will be listed tomorrow on my blog, so stay tuned and thank you.

Just Being Me...

I Am Inspired To Write

2010-02-13T09:48:00.000-05:00

Blsitering white snow covers my grass today, undisturbed by feet or hooves or paw prints. I am inspired to write. It glitters like diamonds, and if I hold my head just right, I think I can see the pink diamond ring I lost three years ago, but I know a mirage when I see one, really? I would be the only one, but I am inspired to write. Ideas awaken me and i'm talking, I'm thinking when I should be speaking, I'm sleeping when I should be writing, I'm doing things when I should be doing something else. In a writer's world this all makes sense. Outside the writer's world I.....ok. I am inspired to write. That fifth cup of tea, that tenth mile, that tenth trip to the door to look at that white squirrel. It's all part of the writing process. I am inspired to write. I'm writing right now, in the other part of my brain. Grocery list, revising that synopsis, nip tucking that other book. I have a new idea. I'll think about it while I sleep.

The Cure for Writer's Block

2010-01-30T11:04:00.001-05:00

A fellow writer recently complained that she had writer's block and couldn't figure out how to overcome it. There are remedies for writer's block and they don't include waiting for muse to strike. It's not that I don't believe in muse. I do. However, Ga Power doesn't believe in muse and they want their money on time. Over the years, I've come up with my own remedy to overcoming my brain freezes.

First, I recognize that sometimes I'm just tired. We all need to rejuvenate and rebuild what's been worn away, and the organ we neglect the most is our brain. We can't see our brain as we do our feet or hands, therefore we take the least care of it. It isn't until our head hurts that we even consider giving ourselves a break. Just as we bathe our skin, clip our fingernails and do whatever is necessary to take care of our eyes, we should also take even better care of our brains.

Second, when overcoming writer's block, you must recognize that it is often because the coffers are bare and must be refilled. I buy magazines and newspapers and read a whole weekend away. If the library allows you to check them out, do so and save yourself some money. I'll hit the Redbox, rent a bunch of dollar movies and immerse myself in stories I didn't catch in theatres.

Finally, I go on a field trip into the malls, stores and coffee shops, and I eavesdrop. Writing is a solitary occupation that keeps us isolated from people. But when you're in your own little world, you miss out on the answers to life. Even if I don't find exactly what I'm looking for, I do open the passageways for free thinking to take place. I can then move past where I'm stuck and go back later, and the answer will be there waiting for me.

There is a cure for writer's block, you have to be willing to go out and find it.

Brand New Me, Brand New You

2010-01-29T11:07:00.013-05:00

I was watching The Monique Show, and India.arie, one of my most favorite singers performed, and I felt blessed to hear her. She expressed her doubts when writing this new album, her fears and concerns about her career, and how she had harnessed that energy and poured it into her music. I really understood her feelings of indecision, but wanted her to know how her music feeds us. She can't quit. I wanted her to know that she's among friends who share her walk. That we derive something uplifting and wonderful from her music.

Last night, I had a book chat with fun and spirited bookclub, LiveLoveLaughBooks, and we had a great time. They had insightful, complimentary and intelligent things to say about The Perfect Seduction, and they left me with with a powerful understanding of why it is I sit at my desk and type all day long. In March, it's been eighteen years of manuscripts, rewrites, publishers, editors, galleys, computers, hard drives, floppy disks, flash drives, photos, bookcovers, pens, notebooks, ink cartridges and brain cells. Eighteen years and I'm still here. So what's next? More books, of course. I still have ideas. Good ones too, and that's what readers want. That's what I want to give them. That's what I bring to the feast.

Brand New Shoes

2009-09-12T07:52:00.005-04:00

Well Ladies,

I have the most amazing announcement in the world!! For those of you who don't already know, I graduated with my MFA in Creative Writing in August. Yep. Two and a half years of hard work paid off and I earned a degree I initially never dreamed existed. Who gave degrees in something you loved? Reading? Wow. Let me tell you, it wasn't easy. Not for a second. Reading isn't easy. Reading like a writer is far less easy. Literary reading is even less easy. Along the way I lost some things. A little innocence, a little naivete, a stratosphere of pain...and so many tears. I gained a new perspective on life. During this journey one of the things I loved the most were the rolling hills of Wroxton, England and the Fairleigh Dickinson Campus. On that campus I stumbled and fell, got up and walked again, and loved every second of it.
Georgia was no better. Offering challenges that threatened to fell me for good, but God has a way of moving every obstacle, and when He says enough, that is it.

I wanted to wear heels to graduation, so I needed to consult an expert. I went to New Jersey to the home of my dear friends Lori-Bryant Woolridge, her husband Craig, and their daughter shoe maven, Eva. Early on L's husband excused my frightfulness with one word "niiice," and beat a hasty retreat to rarely be seen again.

Ever-patient Lori, and sixteen year old Eva, taught me hip-tucking techniques to walking in heels, balance and poise. By the end of the evening my toes were in the permanent flexed position, but I was ready to see Nina Foxx, the shoe--aficionado and fellow student friend, and to graduate.

I wore those four-inch heels to graduation and throughout the night, and I was thrilled. I made a graduation speech and I didn't cry. Not that day. I feel my mom smiling when I think about what a great accomplishment this is for me and for our family. I have one graduation picture to share. I'm the rather slim-footed girl in the black shoe, then there's Nina and Lori!

Now it's time for me to take that next step. I've got to find some new shoes. . .

A Brand New Me

2009-09-11T23:55:00.002-04:00

There comes a time in every woman's life when she has to give up things, and it's that time for me. I've loved Georgia for so long. Raised my children here and nurtured and cultivated my life in this state that I've claimed as home for more than 20 years. But I feel the need for a change. It's as if the great state of GA has put her not so soft shoe up my butt and said sister, get to moving. This change has been coming for quite some time. I love my career as a writer, and it's mobile, something else I enjoy. So, friends, family, readers. Where's the best place to live for an intrepid writer who needs a place to call home?

The Next Sunrise

2009-03-04T20:38:00.005-05:00

I was not mortified, incensed or even angry when I saw the cartoon depiction of the monkey getting shot by the stereotypical, fat white cops, and the caption that stated they’d have to get someone else to write the stimulus bill. I wanted to know what everyone was going to do. Were we going to organize? I thought surely by the next sunrise something big was going to happen.

A day after the nonsense was printed, I received an email telling me about the offense and I replied stop! Keep your eye on the prize. Our President, Barack Obama didn’t write the stimulus bill. He signed it. When President Obama came into office in January, he asked for economists from around the nation to assemble in Washington and come up with a stimulus package that would be a vehicle to help turn our economy around. African-American, White, Indian and Asian economists are the writers of the stimulus bill.

I do know the real meaning behind the cartoon. I also know it’s a felony to threaten the President, so the words in the depiction were chosen carefully. Don’t get me wrong. I am bothered by the fact that their ignorance has a forum, but what bothers me more is our indignation without a direction. Do you think they didn’t know we were going to express our anger? Of course! Before the depiction was printed, it had already been run by their attorneys. If the situation were reversed, our servers would have been hacked, and the building we worked in would have no lights. Please!

History has taught us that when we get angry we act, but now we should act responsibly. Do you think the people on the Underground Railroad had time to write letters and then do nothing? No! They decided they didn’t want to be slaves anymore, devised a plan, sang songs and acted. By the next sunrise. . . Masta and Missy woke up and . . .slaves gone! Rosa Parks sat down, Martin Luther King stood up! What are we doing?

By the next sunrise what will your righteous indignation have done for our Country? Since when do we need to buy those newspapers, listen to those stations and support those individuals when their purpose is to offend, denigrate and strip us of our personhood? Since when are we defined by the lead in someone else’s pencil? It’s 2009, and I don’t believe the Emancipation Proclamation was written with an expiration date.

By the next sunrise the newspaper people ought to know that this new administration and the voters are too smart to be sidetracked by buffoonery, but are more interested in how we can help our President change our nation. By the next sunrise they should know that ALL cops take their jobs seriously and need the help of citizens and do not appreciate being mocked by the media. As a caution: They might want to travel under the speed limit just in case they encounter a PETA supporting, monkey loving officer who is eager to help his community raise much needed revenue. By the next sunrise they should know our purpose is to improve our economy, healthcare, jobs and bring our troops home. We don’t support individuals who mock the leadership of our nation even though we did not, do not, have not, and won’t always agree with everything. We are a civilized, respectful people who believe in change. By the next sunrise somebody ought to know what we stand for, and it should be for more than just righteous indignation!

What is Beautiful?

2009-02-17T17:11:00.008-05:00

Today I sat in the doctor's office and had to wait my turn. There were a lot of sick people in there, and those of us without insurance have to be especially patient. But we've grown accustomed to waiting, and the older I get, the more patient I've become. A mother brought her young daughter in who was full of energy. Frankly, I couldn't tell who was sick. This little girl was the color of the sun, with green-gray eyes that were inquisitive, and I could tell she gave her mother a run for her money. I smiled to myself. Twenty-one years ago, I was that mother. Peeling my son off of ceilings, writing checks to everyone for broken this and that, apologizing for every ravaged, chewed up, torn up, demolished thing in their homes until we just stopped going places cause we ran out of payola.

I am my mother now, bundled in sweeping sweaters. I have no time or patience for coats, buttons or zippers. I would rather wrap myself in things and be unwrapped, then be ensnared by contraptions. I travel with paper; I am always a writer. This beautiful Aaliyah was three chairs away from me, unable to talk, but able to stand and bellow at the sickly people across the room. Annoyed, they rolled their eyes at her. I laughed mom's inward chuckle. "Yes, child get on their nerves, cause you're not going to bother me." Her mother's eyes closed and I thought, "Oh, no, little sister. this isn't free daycare. Wake up and take care of this baby."
But Aaliyah had her charm. Being Mildred's daughter as I am, I gave Aaliyah the eyebrow that I have perfected, and I said in this scratchy voice that has become my own until five each evening, "There's no screaming when you're talking to me. You understand?" Necks clicked as heads turned. Who talks to a child like they're a person?
Aaliyah surprised everyone in the room but me. She nodded her one and a half year old head. "Get down off that chair and come here. I've got some paper for you to write on."
Little sister's head lolled. She was obviously the sick one. Aaliyah surprised me. Her eyebrow slid up. I thought, Oh, you're a smart one. You've been here before.
"Get down now."
No one spoke. This was a showdown of generations and I guess Aaliyah figured I didn't look that sick! Her bottom hit the seat and she came over to me. I rubbed her back and said, "You're the best girl in the world. Draw something for mama." Little sister had awakened, her mouth agape. Aaliyah was studying the construction of the pen. She took it into her left hand and stroked the paper. Ink appeared and she was glad! Her eyes lit up and I clapped. "You're amazing, Aaliyah. Draw something else for mama." She then tried her right hand and I could tell that felt better. Little sister dug tissue from her bag and wiped her tears. "She's never done this before."
They called my name, "Carmen Green?"
I stood up and tore the sheet from my pad and handed it to little sister. "Your daughter is smart. Teach her, she's ready to learn."
I have an ear infection. I left with amoxicillan, but my day was so much better because I'd been blessed by meeting a little girl named Aaliyah.

What is beautiful and how do you capture it in your writing? How do you depict beauty without saying she's beautiful? He's handsome?

Love Recovery

2009-02-16T11:31:00.008-05:00

Recently I met a woman who had just been unceremoniously dumped by her boyfriend of 3 months. They'd been close. Cruising on the river, spending time together on weekends, sharing texts over favorite news shows, and common professions. So when a little difference of opinion ended in an abrupt hang up, she thought a nice text of support would smooth over any difficulties. He didn't call at all the next day. Or the day after. Upset, she left a voice, then email, then text msg of support. Finally, in a text since she hadn't heard from him, she told him if he wanted to break up, she understood. To this he replied, "What are you talking about?"

Since that night over a week ago, they have not actually spoken; he wouldn't take her calls. He put on on another social networking site a message that he wanted change--never stating what that change was. When she posted on her site that she had finally gotten rid of a long-lasting stress--unrelated to him, he shot her the first communique in days "are you talking about me?"

This begs the question, was he looking for a reason to get out of what she thought was a perfect relationship? Were there signs that things were going wrong that she hadn't paid attention to?

She's confused and hurt. What should be her love recovery plan? She's pressed delete on his phone number, social sites and his email. But what else can she do to stop her mind from circling the vodka-laced drain hole of what happened? What will help her stop feeling like she got backed over by a tractor driven laughing man?

I've already formed my opinion, but I'm curious to see what you think, bloggers.

Yes We Can-repost from Harlequin.com

2009-02-15T08:53:00.000-05:00

Yes We Can

The politics of our country have always been of interest to me. As a little girl, I remember being at rally’s with my mother, and I would sit under tables with other little girls who looked like me, afro puff balls on the tops of our heads, our eyes wide, our parents with their fists thrust into the air shouting, “I Am Somebody!” So I was especially interested in a young black man named Barack Obama and what his discussion was about when I became aware of him at the DNC four years ago.

Mr. Obama’s speech ignited the nation and caused me and many who didn’t already know him to get to know him. The natural question came to my mind, can he help us?
What I didn’t know was that this very question was being echoed around the world. When Mr. Obama announced his candidacy, I was energized. I was a graduate student, single working mom with two jobs, living my life, but I wanted to help. I couldn’t do much, but that didn’t stop me from donating a dollar here, five dollars there and having an opinion. I emailed the campaign my suggestions and thoughts often. August 7, 2008, I was sitting in my tiny dorm room at Fairleigh Dickinson University doing homework for my MFA degree, and the Obama campaign called and asked for my resume. They were interested in me working for them. I was thrilled! I ultimately did not take any official position with the campaign, the workload of school and work too enormous, but I still worked on the strategy team, and was still part of the steam that made that great engine run.

From election night until this day, I completely understand what the spirit of Yes We Can means. I am not a woman of wealthy means, but it isn’t the depth of wealth in my pockets, but the willingness in my heart to work that matters. Yes We Can embodies the true spirit in all of us who want our Country to change for the better, and are willing to do what is necessary to see that it happens.

I went to Washington for the inauguration of President Obama. The inauguration balls were wonderful, but it was the people-watching that so captivated me. There were languages I didn’t understand, strangers I hugged, tears I cried, people I prayed with, hands I held and shoulders I rubbed. I will never forget what President Barack Obama has done for us, and I have no idea what his legacy will be. I do know that we are just as responsible as he is to ensure his success. He said “. . .The road will not be easy. . .” But I’m asking you, has it ever? From being stolen from Africa to slavery in America, from the Underground Railroad to freedom, from the Great Depression to Civil Rights, from the inauguration of President Barack Obama, January 20, 2009 to God only knows. Help him help us. www.change.gov

Carmen Green

A New Day

2008-11-05T09:20:00.002-05:00

Last Night a monumental occurrence took place in our country that should not go without comment from the writers of our world, including me. I'm no pundit, no talking-head, but I certainly feel compelled to share my feelings on this election. I've been an Obama supporter since he began his campaign. I've watched the speeches, not all of them but a fair amount, and when I had an opinion, I wrote to the President-elect--which is the way I always addressed President-elect Obama, and voiced my opinion. People that have known me throughout my life know that I'm not short on opinions, so I was surprised when the campaign called this past August and asked for my resume. I was in school, in the middle of residency, completing my Master's Degree in creative writing. I was so honored and of course I emailed my resume right away. I never officially worked for the campaign. But I still sent opinions, I still sent strategy ideas, and the campaign still made me feel as if they needed me.

Last night I was at Dugans on Flat Shoals Rd in Atlanta, and it felt great to be with people who were all rooting for Obama. When the Breaking News banner came up on the TVs, though we'd been watching since the first results were posted, there was this amazing roar, deafening and powerful beyond measure.
President-elect Barack Obama has won the White House.
Strangers hugged strangers, fists pumped the air, a charge ricocheted through the room. Tears flowed freely from men and women. There was no shame, only pride and joy beyond measure. If you didn't know his name, you heard it then OBAMA, OBAMA. President-elect OBAMA. I stood there, dry-eyed. I didn't want to miss a thing. I wanted to savor the moment, soak it all in so I could tell my future grandchildren. Then my children started calling.

Mom, did you. . .yes, baby. . .Mommy, I voted. . .I know. I love you. . .Mom, I never thought I'd see this day. . .I know. Me either. I love you. My children, 21, 19, 16, now understood the significance of why I took them as toddlers to stand in line with a bag of Cheerios to keep them quiet; the year my son bruised his ACL and he was on crutches and I made him stand in line as I talked about suffrage; the day I made my daughter turn off David somebody to listen to Michelle Obama give her speech to the DNC.

They know it's important because I told them it is. Because I said so. Because they're old enough now to have discernment, because now as they move into adulthood they will take these lessons and one day share them with their children. I cast my vote October 14 for me, and for my mother who died last year. I know she's proud. I'm overjoyed. I know God's will be done.

Just Being Me,

Carmen

Double Rainbow

2008-10-09T08:42:00.003-04:00

There are times when you have to read between the lines of life. When we have to step between what makes sense and doesn't and find our own reality. I just recently emailed a person I know only in the vaguest sense to impart some wisdom. I felt a struggle coming on, an inner turmoil that made him want to holler. There are times when nice is just too nice and words can't fix loneliness or bury pain. When you are who you are and everyone wants a piece of you. When perception meets reality, but your reality isn't what everyone perceives. I sensed this in the words that weren't on his message board. My final words to him--find those sincere hands that will clap for you.

"Faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.
Hebrews 11.1

Yesterday here in Georgia, it rained for the first time in 25 days. Around 7 PM, a beautiful rainbow appeared around the lake, and my daughter and I went outside and drank in the beauty of God's amazing grace. About 7:30 PM, a second rainbow appeared and in between both drifted shades of gray clouds. That's where I live my life. Between two beautiful rainbows where there may be an occasional drifting gray cloud.
I called my neighbors, standing on my deck in the drizzle and we all smiled, staring up into the sky. They called out their children and it was a rainbow reunion. There was no food, no plan, no talking. Just us and God's gift.

My advice--actively seek happiness.

Just Being Me,

Carmen

Sangria!

2008-08-17T08:17:00.003-04:00

For the past ten days I was a writer in residence because I'm completing my Master's Degree. The program it's not easy either. My training in writing began like most of you, with scribbles, cooed over by an adoring loved one who declared you an immediate genius. My mother was quite the mom, but she didn't coo undeservedly. Her version of praise went like this: "That's nice, but next time try and color INSIDE the line." Well. Okay then. Needless to say, I've been coloring inside the lines for years now and have entered into the thesis module of this educational program. Let me tell you, this ain't no cake walk.

What I learned from mom is that excellence is earned. Listen.
I also know that I must write. Not just for pay. I must write for me.

I've got to go now. My thesis is calling.

As for the title--life is often challenging--and we've all heard the when life gives you lemons. . .well, I say when life gives you grapes, make Red Sangria Wine. The recipe is below.

Red Sangria Wine
Red Wine, Saki, grape juice, apple, juice, plum juice, pomegranate juice, orange slice, pineapple slice, pears, cut strawberries and lime slices.

More Ideas Than My Brain Can Handle

2008-07-19T20:03:00.002-04:00

Today I've been inundated with ideas. I was at the GRW meeting and the topic was storyboarding. It's a tool some writers use to plot their novels. I've never used this methodology, but it was the conversation after the meeting that stirred my emotional juices. The talk with a friend about cutting down the front bushes had us in stitches. She'd told me about how her husband had built their pond 7 or so years ago that got me going. I had to tell her how I'd only gone outside to tackle those bushes because I couldn't plot.

When the story wouldn't come, I had to use my hands in another way. By the time we finished talking, we were in stitches. Using my hands in another way. . .and the creative floodgates opened. Today, I can't stop thinking. The ideas are flowing so much, I'm now tired. I have to say that my bushes are lovely. Her pond which her husband built so long ago is a lake--a slight exaggeration--but lovely nonetheless, and my hands are tired from typing ideas that will sit in my idea folder until two years from now when I will be able to give them the time they deserve to be written. That's right, two years. I have two years worth or work to do right now. I'm bumping the schedule up, so don't worry. I have to fit in a couple Crawford stories and a couple surprises because that's what makes life interesting.

Now that I'm done using this side of my brain, I'll go back to writing the remainder of my 8 pages for today. Let me put on some Herbie Hancock. . .

And the beat goes on. . .

C

Blogging

2008-07-16T13:53:00.002-04:00

It's so good to take a breather and say hello. I'm sitting here in my favorite cafe with Mary Barfield who asked me to lunch and interviewed me for her new blogging site, www.pinkfuzzyslipperwriters.blogspot.com. I've known Mary since I joined GRW in 1994 and she's been actively seeking publication since. The interview was interesting since we were both talking and typing at the same time. Two writers accomplishing the same goal, which has always been to seek publication. I love this business. It's made friends of people who would otherwise probably have never met before. Doctors and photographers, students and actuarial managers, engineers and television writers. I'm heading home to work on my book, I still have ten pages to write for my book and a thesis to work on. I still have to exercise and feed my migraine. Yes, we work through all of this. We're writers. That's what we do. Our characters are richer for our ailments and our abilities. Be sure to check their site. It's very nice.

I gotta go.
Just being me,
Carmen

Femme Tour Slide Show Photos Seattle June 6-8, 2008

2008-06-17T09:04:00.001-04:00

My Bottom Lip is Quivering

2008-06-15T09:41:00.004-04:00

The Femme Tour is Over
The final stops on our tour happened last weekend in Seattle, and boy did we have an awesome finish. Femme authors, Lori Bryant Woolridge, Carmen Green, Nina Foxx, ReShonda Tate Billingsley and Trisha R. Thomas closed out the Femme tour with panache and grace that was indicative of the tour from its inception. Ft. Lewis was outstanding, and I'm not just talking about the lovely gifts they gave us. I'm talking about the heroes welcome of us, when it was our pleasure to welcome our Country's heroes and sheroes back home from war. Men and women of all ages stopped by our table, happy to see 5 successful black women writers, and let me tell you, we were the catch of the day! Seattle doesn't get what we gave them very often, apparently.

Our signing at Borders proved that point, but what it also proved to me was that we have to keep doing what we do so we're not 'Christmas in June' as one gray ponytailed man put it. We left signed books, is all I have to say. Please go pick one up!

Finally the book club. Nobody did it better. These ladies laid out a spread that was to die for, and we ate, and shared Femme Style, and nobody, not a single one held their applause--you had to be there to know.

We had a rousing finish. A wonderful end to an amazing tour that had incredible highs. In the upcoming months we'll start our huddle for Femme 09 and 10.
Remember Montel Jordan's song This is How We Do It? He's on my myspace page, check him out. Well, stay tuned. Because Femme will transform and we're going to do it different and better the next time around. You're going to want to be part of our success.
Until then, we raise our Femmetini glasses to you.

Just Being me,
Carmen

Check out my Slide Show!

2008-05-23T15:07:00.003-04:00

Salute!

2008-05-22T09:37:00.005-04:00

I know it's been a minute since I blogged, but I can't get into the habit of doing something everyday that isn't spontaneous. Meaning, I have to work to work out. Think about food to eat, and maintain lists to get from one school, banquet, dinner, store, doctor's appointment, date and post office run to another. Readers get on me, I hear you guys, about not blogging more, and I love to hear from you, but I just can't do it every day. Okay, I'll make you a deal. Once a month and then we'll go from there. So what's happening in my world? I'm busy as ever and so happy about that. I've got a graduating senior from high school, and it's exciting. I'm thrilled that she knows what she wants to do and, she's chosen to go to college. I respect that she's an independent thinker, I didn't so much when she was small and it was time to go to church, and she couldn't decide what to wear, but those days are long over. God doesn't care what they wear to church. I realize that now. A few days ago I persuasively asked her to come home so I could take her picture on the last day of school. She thought that was hilarious. She and her best friend were laughing so hard I didn't think they'd get here. They're no longer in high school, after all, and they were going to IHOP for breakfast. Well, she came in, plopped on the chair and started giggling. That's the daughter I remember. Not this forensic scientist who isn't afraid of bugs. Boy, am I looking forward to the future with this happy, scientist, daughter, shopping maven, intelligent woman!

I'm also writing like crazy. I've had two books come out in the last four months. Suddenly Single and This Time For Good. What a rush it's been to be able to talk to people and know they derived something good from my work. I've been touring the country with the Femme Fantastik Tour! Yay. Talk about a great group of ladies, great friends. Women who've changed and helped shape my life. I'm also finishing school and working on more novels. I absolutely love what I do and tell people I meet on my journey through life to write their stories. Record your history for your family and future generations. This is your life, enjoy it.

To all you Moms and Dads with graduating young people--Congratulations. Be very proud of your child and yourself. You made it!

Just Being Me,

Carmen

Suddenly Single is born

2008-03-15T14:41:00.002-04:00

Yippee Everybody,

My book is in stores now! Suddenly Single has been a book for so long, it went to high school and college and has a degree by now!! Many of you writers know how it is. You get an idea from something you see, hear, smell, taste or interpret and voila, a book is born. That’s what happened to me with SS one day—a hundred years ago. I conceived this idea, and at that time, it wasn’t a Crawford story. But as we grow, so do stories. That’s what happened to Suddenly Single. Trina needed her own story. The Crawford’s are a timeless family that mirrors so many families. They represent all the best of what we’re made of . Togetherness, love, safety, accountability and fellowship. I enjoy them because I’m apart of them. I have five brothers and sisters and eight cousins that grew up in and around us that I can call on anytime day or night. These family members allow me to be funny and irreverent, and we have an amazing time together. Last year was difficult for us. I recall asking the oldest cousin Sonya, who we affectionately call (Saan) if she knew how to cook a turkey. Of course I have no idea. Good grief. I only had to buy it and Mom was the cook. Mom once told me to get the bag and I had no idea what she was talking about. By the time I found it, I was nauseous and she was over me. Anyway, Saan looked me in the eye and assured me that she was there for me any turkey day that I needed. My breathing evened and I felt better. Truly, that’s what family is for. To be honest, I’ll probably never cook a turkey. My sister’s and cousins don’t want me in the kitchen. I’m a vegetarian. But I shop like a Crawford, and in some ways my family is like the Crawford’s because of the love we have for each other. Enjoy Suddenly Single. It will give you the best of what a family is.

JBM,

Carmen

Dedication and Acknowledgments for Suddenly Single

2008-03-09T23:05:00.002-04:00

Suddenly Single is available now. Enjoy the next installment of the Crawford family

Dedication:
To Mom, my biggest cheerleader. I'll love you forever, and I'll see you in the Rapture someday.

Acknowledgments:
To my brothers and sisters, my children, dad, and the rest of my extended family, thank you for all your support in finishing this book at the worst time in our lives. To Anna Adams, thank you for helping me work on this book. Thank you Lori, Nina, Madeenah, Pam Roach, Cheritta McCray, Tracy Cardwell, Marissa Monteilh, Carla Fredd, GRW, Whitney and Jim Fredericks who encouraged me. Selena, thank you for giving me the time to write when the words wouldn't come.
Thank you readers for being patient. I'd love to hear from you.
Blessings,
Carmen Green
carmengreen1201@yahoo.com

Happy New Year!

2008-01-07T18:13:00.000-05:00

I'm Peeking in,
I know it's been a bit of time since I posted, but I've had a lot to do. I need to cleanse my aura, shake some stalkers and get my head together. Truly. In some ways I'm kidding, in others I'm not. Honestly, I needed to take a moment of personal time to get some serious work done. I'm happy to say I've gained a lot of momentum with my writing and the projects are really exciting. Suddenly Single will be in stores in February and This Time For Good will be out in May. This book will be my first Harlequin Kimani! I'm thrilled about this.
I've got a wonderful Myspace page, so check me out. Also, be sure to send me your email info so I can send you an alert when my books are released.
I don't do New Years resolutions, but I do goals and I would recommend everyone take a moment to contemplate where you'd like to see yourself in 3, 6, 9 and 12 months. Chart a course for how you're going to get there and then begin to make it happen. I went to the gym today. That's it. My goal was to go to the gym a few times a week. I worked out and I feel great for having fulfilled that promise to myself.

What kind of promises did you make yourself this year? Be better, smarter, tougher, more forgiving? It's time to get yourself moving, and get there. Here's the nudge you need. Mmmmmmm! Now go!

JBM--Carmen

The Femme Tour

2007-09-22T09:22:00.000-04:00

Here are the photos. The most memorable part of this tour was the OKC bombing site and hearing stories of people who'd almost gone to the building that day to do business. Thanks to all the store managers, staff and drivers (especially Terra who was so nice to us) and David at the Hair Cafe, his mom, sister and fiance, for such a nice event. I'll blog more later. I've got a book to write.
Thanks again.

JBM--Carmen

72 hours til launch

2007-09-11T11:26:00.000-04:00

The time is almost upon us, and I'm not ready. I'm speaking about the Femme Fantastik Tour. I've got clothes all over my bed, the unlucky discards on the chair. Shoes cover the floor divided into various piles for comfort, style, and the ah factor. MAC make-up lines my dresser for final selection, but the clothes have to come first, so they wait, lids up ready to be chosen and dropped into the traveling bag. I keep looking at the essentials in a bag in the sink, knowing I have to verify everything against my travel checklist one last time, but can't just yet.

Too much is in my mind. I still have Galley's to read, a manuscript due, two annotations to write, and a book to read, revisions to complete, and. . .I keep thinking of the young people I'm going to meet on the road. I keep seeing their faces, hearing their voice. Their quick smiles. The light in their eyes when they find out I'm a writer. I have 25 books. But it's not that. I don't want them to know me that way. I want to know them. Why they're in the military. Why at 19, 20, 21 they carry guns. Why they signed their names on papers that said I will fight. Why. . . Why???

I have a son. He's 20. He came home yesterday and I took one look at him and said "Son, you need to get acquainted with an iron." From the tipped up collar of his shirt to the jagged hem of his pants, he wasn't straight. Not a bit of him. He said, "I'm gone slap an apron over this and go to work." He kissed my cheek, gave me that winning smile that's made women swoon since he was in my lap, walked to the car and drove to work. I thought don't give him a gun, he might accidentally shoot me and say 'my bad.'

I've got to get my head together before I see these kids. I don't want to ask why. They might say, for you.

JBM--Carmen

Trial Run

2007-09-01T19:54:00.000-04:00

Today I had a dress rehearsal of sorts. Today was my first booksigning in a long time. I was on a panel and I'd agreed to do this months ago. I had misgivings because I had to talk to people. Does anyone hear me? I had to speak aloooouuuud. Not to the window or the trees or the cat that's always in my yard but isn't my cat, or my computer. By its very nature, writing is a solitary business. It's done alone in the quiet and solemness of your home or office, and it's been this way for me for months. I had to leave the house. Today. I had even invited people. So I had to go. Needless to say, I had some maintenance to do. People always 'look at authors and say you look so great, pretty, nice'. But I'm here to tell you, we all resemble hairy wildabeast that need to be tamed and pruned before we can step off our sunny porches into the sun. Yes, we're scared of the sun too. We don't know what it feels like until we're zipping into the store for precooked chicken and cole slaw. So after I shaved and culled the hair back to its proper length, I had to go stand in my closet and demand only the clothes that fit to leap off the hangers and fit me. Nothing happened. I had to try stuff on. Now, I'm no diva. I'm partial to men's boxers and a sports bra. I know, scary. But today I had to dress and put on shoes. Ten changes later I walked from my closet in a decent pair of jeans, top and shoes. I left 2.5 hours early, okay, so I get lost a lot, and I set out on my journey. By the time I got to the signing, a 37 minutes trip, that took me 2.1 hours, well, I wasn't so spring fresh and I was wondering if I was nuts to have left my house.

Well. . .it was all worth it. I met readers, saw a lot of friends, and had a good time. I'm glad I went to the panel/signing. Thanks to Anna, Karen and Wendy. I'm glad I left my house today.
Thanks to everyone who came out and supported GRW and the Decatur Book Festival, and when I go out again in two weeks, I'll be in tip top shape.
JBM--Just Being Me--Carmen

Lucky 7

2007-08-21T23:13:00.000-04:00

Yesterday was a momentous day. I turned @%$ years old and my kids kept asking me, Mom, how do you feel? The truth is, I feel good. I've had a difficult year, filled with bouts of grief and sadness, but yesterday was a day to celebrate. I had a birthday. My kids gave me a party and all four of them were home. My sister and her children came over and cooked. Stacy's an awesome personal chef and her kids are amazing cooks, too.

But the sweet part of yesterday was the fact that I fit into my birthday dress! Now that was icing on the cake. I'd bought this dress I don't know how many months ago and had to do a four-story dive just to get into it. But I thought this will be your birthday dress. So I started exercising, walking, hitting the gym and the weight machines and doing DVDs I'm sure nobody owns but me. Let me tell you, I wore that dress and I felt good. Hey, I could even sit down and eat in it too! Now that's awesome.

I got e-cards and emails, text messages and my brother and sisters called. I was blessed. The only sad moment was when I knew I wouldn't hear my mother's voice for the first time in @%$ years, but I closed my eyes and I remembered her voice from every one of the prior years and my heart said, this is good.

Today the dress hangs in my closet, waiting for the next wear, and this morning I took me and my happy birthday self to the chiropractor. Whatever. I needed an adjustment.

Last night we couldn't find any candles for the cake and my kids were all flummoxed as to what to do. We finally dug one up. A 7. Lucky 7. I proudly planted it in the middle of my cake and we lit it up. To the most horrible rendition of Happy Birthday I've ever heard, my family regaled me, as I laughed my head off. I realized right then there is happiness in every day. My niece Kacy did the honors and helped me blow out lucky 7, and then we feasted on yellow cake with blue and white frosting. Delicious. Life is delicious.<

Just Being Me,
Carmen

The Countdown begins: Thirty days Til Tour

2007-08-19T22:08:00.000-04:00

Hi Friends,
Yesterday I saw Berta Platas at the GRW meeting, and I asked her had she started working out in preparation for the Femme Fantastik Tour. She gave me this quizzical look. No, was her cryptic reply. I told her no offense, but Lori and Nina get sick on tour. They eat the wrong food and the next thing you know, you're carrying Nina's bag of 2000 shoes and dragging Lori on a stretcher to the nearest ER for an allergy scare. ReShonda, well, she can't stop having babies, and Trisha, hmm, she's just special. I'm the only healthy one, I told her, sucking in one cheek. That usually means I'm lying, but, whatever. I suggested that a couple chin ups, some bicep and tricep curls and jogging for endurance would be in order. Berta, for the record, didn't believe me. (Her mistake)

In all seriousness, in less than 30 days our tour will begin. Last year we had allergy scares, bootleg limousine rides, book and author no shows and funny radio interviews, but in the midst of it all we were honored to meet the service men and women who make it possible for us to sleep at night. We loved meeting their families on church Sunday's, their children on cheerleading and haircut Saturday's, and their mother's and father's shopping in the PX on Friday's. It was our pleasure to shake their hands, give a hug of encouragement and share a laugh with these brave young people. Selling our books was a gift to us, not them. I gained so much. Humility. Honor. Pride. I learned from these people about the meaning of bravery.
This year we're bigger and we're bringing a few guest authors with us. So get ready because here we come. We'll see you in a few weeks!
Carmen

Work, work, work. . .

2007-08-18T18:33:00.000-04:00

Heeey,

I've got so much work to do, I think my work is having babies! So why am I blogging when I should be working? Because I said I would get better about blogging and saying what's going on. Between going to school, yes, I'm a Master's program at FDU, writing not one, not two, not three, but four books, homework, teenagers who have jobs and no cars, teenagers who eat more than vegetables and fruit(I hate that they're not vegetarians like me), I'm still grieving Mom and Grandma's passing--but getting better, gearing up for our annual Femme Fantastik Tour, bills that sit and wait, and other miscellaneous stuff I can't do anything about, AND I don't have another outside paying job besides writing to offset this life--well, you know the single mama song. I have more days at the end of the month than dollars, and the stress of it all makes me want to Hollaaaaa!!!

But--
I am a lot of things. Loved. Blessed. Thankful. Tired. A little sad. A little scared. Humble. Honored. Grateful.
To be who I am. Have what I have. Do what I do. Be where I am.

A friend offered me a basketful of poor baby's today. As useless as butterflies, so I smiled and walked away. All I could think of is what it must have been like for our ancestors to plow fields, side by side. Swinging and chopping. All day. Everyday. How if one faltered and had to lean a bit, the person next to them took up the slack, and after a minute everybody went back to toiling their own row.
Today I needed two things. A cool breeze, and someone holding each wrist so I could lean.

JBM--Just Being Me,

Carmen

Breaking Up is Hard To Do

2007-07-31T18:02:00.000-04:00

We've all had to say goodbye to something or someone that isn't working out well. I have a friend who shall forever remain nameless who goes through nannies like the rest of us go through underwear. I'm amazed there isn't a nanny network out there that doesn't have a No-way! list with her name on it. Well, my problem started young. I fall in love easily. Most people can't admit that. I can. I'm weak. Give me some of what I need and I'm yours, blinking and drooling forever. Recently, things got out of control. I began to get up at night seeking out my source. Looking for it, tearing into things I had no business being in, looking for my car keys, going to where it was. . .I had to have it right then.
Yep, I was hooked.
Spike Lee appropriately named his movie She's gotta Have It for a reason.
I had to have. . .
CANDY!
Yes, dangit. Candy.
Not a man, and not that expensive chocolate crap you other women are hooked on. I'm allergic. (I'm so thankful)
No, cheap, delicious dusty, melt in your mouth Smarties and Swedish Fish.
I would tear the candy drawer apart--hey, don't judge me. YES, I have a candy drawer.
I'd go to the car, hoping the kids had hidden the bag I'd bought. I'd go through their drawers, bypassing their diaries--who wants to read those anyway??
I searched and even used the flashlight and stood on the counter to look on top of the cabinets--that's when I had an intervention. Yes, with myself. Nobody else was home.
All I could think was what will they think when they find your dead carcass on the floor from falling off this counter? You saw a bear out the window? Get down dumb ass, and think about what you're doing! (Conversations with myself tend to get graphic)
So, I got down and went back to bed. It was 3:45 in the morning. As I sat in bed licking an apple pretending it was a Swedish fish, I thought there's no Candy Anonymous for you, so you have to kick this on your own. The problem is, I've been addicted to candy all my life. But just because you're right-handed doesn't mean you can't be left-handed, or just because you speak French doesn't mean you can't learn English, right? Anyway, I decided right then I was going to quit. The problem was, I like candy. So I had to have a ceremony. I gathered up all the candy I could find, and I would like you all to think I burned it in the oven, but I ate it, of course!
Then I didn't buy anymore. Not a single 3 pound bag.
It's been 10 days and I'm candy free. Yes, I have candy withdrawl. In my dreams male anatomy is covered with Swedish fish, and food tastes different. I miss it. The smell of candy. (sigh)
I joined the gym.
Now the delightful scent of candy has been replaced by the odor of my bones as they grind against one another when my feet are over my head in Pilates. I've started several fires.
That sweet sticky smell that goes straight to your sinuses as you pass the ab machine isn't in fact someone who's forgotten their deodorant. It's me excreting candy through my pores. I've got to go now. The ab machine is free. I think I'm going to cry.

Carmen

Deadlines

2007-07-20T22:12:00.000-04:00

There are deadlines and then there are deadlines. I have to set deadlines or things don't happen. In my car is drycleaning, mail and newspapers. Obviously that trip to the drycleaner that might involve a traffic jam hasn't happened. I'm not sure how long those clothes have been there, but I am sure that I've bought new ones in the meantime. Whew. Crisis averted.

This past week I gave myself a deadline to finish a synopsis. Suddenly everything else in my life necessitated a high security level. Including watching the ducks in the pond with no water stand around in the mud. For some reason this was funny to me. Uh, I think I'm wasting time. Dang. Busted. See you later. My synopsis is due to me by tomorrow at 5.

Later, Carmen

Carmen's Books

2007-07-20T13:55:00.001-04:00

Cool Slideshows!

The Femme Fantastik Tour

2007-07-17T00:59:00.000-04:00

The Femme Fantastik Tour is a wonderful group of women who decided we wanted to do advertising for our books our way. Not that we're shunning help from our publishers, just the opposite. We're taking risks as authors to try to ensure that advertising and our books get into the hands of our fans. We're all trying to grow our readership.

This past year, Nina Foxx, Lori Bryant-Woolridge and I added another Femme to our tour and let me tell you, Reshonda Tate Billingsley is no shrinking violet. Not only is she a former anchor newswoman out of Texas, she's got mad talent writing Christian fiction, young adult novels, raising a family and a closet poet. Now she's Femme Fantastik! We're also proud to welcome Trisha R. Thomas of the Nappily Ever After and Nappily Married books, soon to be made into a movie, and several other ladies, Berta Platas and Wendy Coakley-Thompson. I had the auspicious honor to be in the company of Lori, Nina and ReShonda for an event in Austin, Texas, and let me tell you, these girls are funny!

I'm funny, I realized, but funny as hell when I'm with them. We have no-holds-barred freespirit stream-of-conscience banter, but you have to be careful around the sneaky-with-the-camera Nina. She'll catch you doing or saying something, and man, do you look crazy when you watch it back on YouTube. I've learned, carry some lipgloss and try to watch your damned mouth. You will have to explain that *#&% later. Watch for a clip on
http://www.femmefantastik.blogspot.com/

Soul Obligation

2007-07-17T00:40:00.000-04:00

The Day The Words Came Back

Recently I suffered from grief so badly, I couldn’t write. My mother passed away and 93 short days later, my grandmother. It was as if the words I desperately needed to fulfill my Soul Obligation vaporized under my tears.

For all of you that don’t know what a Soul Obligation is, it’s the words that I must say or write everyday, that if unborn, will come out in my sleep. (You may all stop wondering why I don’t have a boyfriend, as this is my reason. Who can stand all that yammering?)
I talk a lot. Mostly to myself, but I have get the words out. Most times my talking is within the structure of a story, but when not written, I’ll yell at a dog, (I don’t have pets) shoo a bird for eating my grass seed or sing to my plants. Yes, I can sing, but not well. But the words must come.
Weeks passed and I couldn’t write. I’d stare out the window and try to describe clouds and end up asleep in bed. Goodness knows how that happened, but it did for days. Friends would call and want to take me out to eat, but I didn’t go. I needed to write. I’d sit in front of my computer and stare at words in the dictionary and type definitions, but they weren’t my words. I was borrowing them from Webster’s.

Then I decided to give up on writing. I thought, What The Hell?
Could I do such a thing? Me, Carmen Green give up writing? What would I do all day? Holler at the rooster that crows every morning? (Yes, I live in Georgia, there is a rooster down the street, so I guess that means that I’m a confirmed Yahoo.)
Could I give up my passion for who knows how long? Maybe never see it again?
Well, I could and I did. My Soul Obligation ceased to move.
For the first couple days I was afraid. I didn’t know what to do with myself, so I gardened. I built a retaining wall, then took to my bed. My rheumatoid didn’t like that activity. Then I started wiping things down. I swiffered. My house sparkled.
I grew restless. I got snarky with the kids. I ate and ate and ate. I slept and slept, and drove across the country several times.
Then I started reading. Journaling things that have absolutely nothing to do with making money. Weeks passed and I read some more, and to my surprise, people kept putting pens in my hand. Lori, Carm, I need this from you. Bryant, Carmen, write this. Tina, Mom, sign the bills. Carla, let’s go to Starbucks and write. Karen, read, sweetie, but write to me later. Bryant and Whitney and Madeenah and Lori and Karen and Carla, you don’t have to write right now, but when you’re ready the words will come, and with that, I sat down and wrote my first sentences.
Initially, they were a discombobulated mess. They didn’t connect to the stories in my mind, but then I stopped trying to fit them into the books I was writing and just wrote them. Eventually, they found their place.
To this day my Soul Obligation flows like a cup runneth over. I’m filled with stories and ideas and words I can’t find space for. My body and mind are in sync, at least when it comes to writing. I finished a book! And I write. I grieve a little more and a little less, and I write. I’ve found through adversity there is humanity and life. Now I write about it. I’m glad to be back. Please join me on this journey. I've got a lot to say so. . .stay tuned.
Carmen

Honoring Mom

2007-06-19T07:45:00.000-04:00

Friends,
I know it’s been a long time since I blogged, but I’ve been dealing with the sadness and grief over the death of my mother. My Mom, Mildred McCray passed away in March, and my world turned upside down. I will forever be changed.

For all of you who know me, you know I’m just a little different. Special, my friends say with a smile and a wag of their hands from side-to-side. I never take offense, because somebody got me. Mom got me. She got my brand of “special.” She let me get away with stuff nobody else could get away with. I say I can’t cook. I can, but I say I can’t because when I was little I hated being in that hot kitchen all holiday long cooking when there was so much football to watch on TV. I would inevitably get in trouble, get a spanking and sent into the living room to be dealt with by my father. Other nutcases would have been scared. Daddy could be scary. But I figured I'd already been in trouble once, what else was he going to do? Daddy was cool on those Sunday's. He'd kiss my beaten thigh and sit me right next to him, then return to yelling at the TV. His favorite word was and still is Shiiit.

So to this day, I’ve never cooked a turkey, I have no idea how to make macaroni and cheese from scratch or greens or cabbage, and to cook a lot of food at one time fills me with so much anxiety, I run for the movie section of the newspaper.

Mom got that. She once tried to tell me how to clean a turkey, picking stray feathers and hairs--over the phone. First, how gross is that and second, let's be for real. Me?? I'm holding this thing that has filled my sink, and it stinks like raw meat. Ok, it was raw, but still--Mom asks me about necks and gizzards. I start feeling faint. No kidding. She asks if I have the bag. Huh? I have an English degree, but huh? Then I know what she's talking about. I tell her, hell naw. I'm not sticking my hand up a turkey's ass to get a bag of innards. I promise if she doesn't get to Atlanta by the next day, I will hurl me and the turkey off my second story balcony. One of us isn't going to make it to Thanksgiving dinner for 42 at my house in two days. After she laughed her head off, she let me change her ticket, and the turkey was the hit of the holiday. Yeah, I'm special.

I miss all the things that made Mom special. Her laugh, because she always got the joke. Her temper and intelligence. Her peacemaking and hellraising abilities. The sterness and the kindness of her hands. Her words and intuition and her thoughts. Her fortitude and creativity. Her ethics and her dreams. Her wisdom and her unflagging support. Her love. Her love. Her love. I am a part of her and she is a part of me. I’m living my dream because of her. I’ll love her forever. Happy Birthday Mom. Tomorrow she would have been 64.
Love Always,
Carmen Green

Happy V-Day--Yeah Right

2007-02-14T13:09:00.000-05:00

Good Valetine's Day to all my attached sista and brotha's friends.
I'm really happy for you. I'm still single, but happy. Mhmm. Living my life like's it's Golden as Jill Scott said to do, Recognizing A Woman's Worth, per Alicia Keys, and yes, I heard Fantasia when she said, I Ain't Gon' Beg You, and realized I wasn't the woman in Good Mourning, by my girl India.Arie.
I don't have a man but I still felt the need for Valentine's Day presents.
Since I watched the Montel Williams show earlier this month and LL Cool J was a guest, he said if you stay off your vice for 21 days you'll kick it, so I decided to kick candy. Okay, I've heard this before, but when LL tells you something and then licks his lips, well. . .I mean goodness, it's memorable.
So here's my confession: My name is Carmen and I'm a sugaraholic--cheap candy like Smarties and Swedish Fish are my weakness. It's been 11 days since my last fix. Yes, there are tears in my eyes. Withdrawl is a bitch!
So anyway back to why I'm so bitter--ly happy for all of you coupled people.
I believe in celebrating holidays sans a man, so I went out and bought myself a teddy bear, some cake mix and a flower. No, I wasn't using them all at the same time, but whatever to you pervs out there.
I came home, had a cupcake, threw the rest away, put on India.Arie and danced with my six inch bear with my flower in my hair.
Then I decided to read my email. Who knows. Maybe someone saw me dancing and wanted me for a video. Even I'm laughing at that.
I have to say this first. I love my friends. I think they hate me.
My sista-friend, in the trenches, need some hardcore advice givin', I will dial 911 really fast if a man in a bad wig is following you through Nordstrom's about to rob you, travelin' the world with you, dear Femme Fantastik friend Lori Bryant-Woolridge sends me some hater mail.
Yes, dammit, I said it right, hater mail. I was shocked. My slim-fast bar fell from my mouth. What had I done to illicit mail that began,
Weapons of Mass Seduction, Unleashing the Sensual You.
It's kind of like the record Chante's Got a Man at Home. What the Hell?? Don't brag **tch. The rest of us got bears, but we ain't singin about it!
I looked at the bear and said, "You squeal that my orange polka pajama top and checkered blue bottoms don't match?" The bear fell over. Bastard.
Lori's note to me is below and once you read it, you will understand my replies.

WMS Rules for Creating A Red Hot Night by Lori Bryant Woolridge
'Tis the season for creating Red Hot Nights for romance and I thought I'd pass on some red hot rules for sensual entertaining. Every Weapon of Mass Seduction knows that:

1) To Thine Own Self Be True. At the core of a truly sensual woman is confidence in her authentic self. The evening you create should be driven first by your own comfort and enjoyment.
Carmen's Rebuttal for the Single Sista's: To Thine Own Self Be True--plan for major orgasms alone. Clean all vibrators.

Lori- 2) Senses Rule. Every aspect of your special evening should be planned according to your senses. Every sight, sound, smell, taste and touch should be pleasurable.
Carmen's Rebuttal for the Single Sista's: Senses Rule-snap a pair of worn panties on your head. Intoxicating!

Lori-3) Anticipation is Everything. Stay one step ahead. Maintain the mystery and you'll surely maintain your lover's interest (and gratitude)!
Carmen's Rebuttal for the Single Sista's: Anticipation is Everything-The batteries don't hold enough charge for all night loving. Buy more! And stay one step ahead--lock the damn door. The kids don't need to see you smackin' your own ass.

Lori-4) Drown Yourself in Pleasure. Not libations or food. You will negate all of your hard work and pleasure if you allow yourself or your lover to drink or eat too much.
Carmen's Rebuttal for the Single Sista's: Drown Yourself in Pleasure-Don't shower and prove you got a lover to the haters at work. Just wear more perfume, baby.

Lori-5) Be Flexible. Anticipation will bring your evening alive. Expectations will kill it. Remember one of the joys of living a sensual life is living in the moment and reveling in life as it comes. Plan your evening and then see where it takes you.
Carmen's Rebuttal for the Single Sista's: Be Flexible-You got skills, use 'em. The knee over the belly fat orgasm, priceless!

Lori Says-A Red Hot Night is an amazing way to celebrate Valentines or a birthday or anniversary, but what makes a night like this really hot, is when it comes out of the blue for no reason other than to make your lover feel special.Learn how to 'host' a red hot night from invitations to decadent dining ideas in Weapons Of Mass Seduction, a new novel by bestselling author, Lori Bryant-Woolridge. Part flirt-manual, part fiction, it is truly a novel to Unleash the Sensual You. Coming April 17, 2007. In the meantime, visit www.Weapons-of-Mass-Seduction.blogspot.com for more sensual living (and loving) tips.
www.loribryantwoolridge.com

Carmen's Rebuttal-Yeah, what the hell ever. Happy dag-on Valentine's Day.

Blogging and other important time users of the day

2007-01-18T12:09:00.000-05:00

Today is one of those days where I started with the best of intentions and I'm wondering what went wrong. I got online to answer a few e-mail and that took 2 hours. I somehow ended up at my blog and saw that it was sorely out of date. Soooo, I sat at my desk and for the next 2 hours proceeded to update it. Now mind you, I have work to do! Yes, serious work. Then I got a text message. YIPPEE. Who's it from? I don't know. So what do I do? Investigate the text message!
No, I haven't found out who it's from. So what do I do next? Write a blog about my day. Umm, I believe I have a problem. Yes, it's a mental illness. It's called Carmen wants to be a crazy person, locked in an asylum that serves canned food all day long. Does anyone else see me ending my life by papercut? Hmm. . .I think I will go to work now. I wonder, what area code is 504? Why is there a dog in my yard? Why are the neighbors outside talking? Maybe later I'll get a mani/pedi---Uh. . .
Okaaay, you don't have to get out the zap paddles. I'm on to writing, Suddenly Single, Trina Crawford's story. Then reading Toni Morrison's, Beloved.
cg

Merry Old England. . .

2007-01-18T09:45:00.000-05:00

Recently I attended a writers residency in Wroxton, England and everything was going great until the fire drill. Now everyone that knows me knows that I'm not a morning person. No happy talking, no smiling, no fire drills. Now Nina Foxx, my dear friend, is a morning person and she had the unfortunate privilege of being my neighbor in the Abbey, the University Hall we stayed in outside London. The bells are ringing, and I incorporated them into my dream sequence and was content to burn alive in the 400-year-old wooden building. I kept dreaming until someone who I later learned was Nina banged on my door. Well, that was quite unwelcome and made me sit up and realize the fire bells were real. I sat on the bed still waking up. Bang, bang, bang. That was Nina again, trying to save my life. I dragged on my coat, found my glasses, shoes, hat, gloves and scarf-hey it was hand made by my sister-in-law, and went down 80 stairs and out the non-burning building. If you haven't been to London, you haven't experienced the lovely January weather. The drizzle that rarely turns into a rain shower, and the rain showers that last long enough to soak you to the skin after you've left home w/o your umbrella. Well, we straggled out the building in a bizarre parade of half-sleep, pajama clad students who looked more confused than scared that our temporary home was about tinder for the biggest fire Wroxton had seen in 200 years. One of the Mentors ambled over to me and said, "So, this is what you look like in the morning."
Okay, I took a swipe at him. I was half sleep. We laughed and I hiked back to the North Pole, my room. I got back into bed when the thunderous knock shook my door again. Dangit, those weren't my words, but you get my drift. I opened the door and in walked Nina.
"Carm, where were you?"
"Escaping the fire," I said, as I climbed back into bed. Why was she looking at me odd with her coat zipped to the throat?
"Girl, I had to go down the fire escape."
I open one eye and look at her. "Why? There wasn't even a fire."
"My room is the fire escape room. I was naked. I'm still naked!"
I opened both my eyes. "You have a coat on."
"Underneath I'm nekked!"
"Oh." I sit up. "What the hell, Nina?"
She laughs. "I'd just gotten out of the shower and the fire alarm went off. I got scared. I knew people would be coming to my room and I panicked. I grabbed my coat and opened the door. When I turned around that guy that's on our floor, he was in the doorway with this crazy, scared look in his eyes. He raced past me to the window, pushed it open and started down."
"No way. He didn't wait for you to go first?"
"No! I couldn't believe it. I shoved my feet in my Uggs, grabbed my Rolex and started down the fire escape. Then I shouted down to that guy, 'You'd better not look up.'"
I just looked at Nina. "Are you KIDDING?"
"What, I'm naked underneath," she emphasized.
"That's the point. You're goose is hanging free and you tell a single white male don’t look up? Be serious. Even Ruth in the Bible turned back and looked and she turned into a pillar of salt. Where is dude, anyway?"
"I don't know."
We looked out my door and the maids were throwing his sheets into the hallway. "What did you do to him," I ask her. "Most guys don't go the other way when goose is hanging over their heads, if you know what I mean."
We laugh.
"I don't know where he went, but the blog will be interesting," Nina assures me.
I watch her leave as I climb back in the bed for five more minutes of rest before my alarm goes off. "Interesting? Only Nina."

Dancing the Night Away

2006-08-07T22:31:00.000-04:00

Recently I went out dancing with a friend to an old school new spot that was near my house. I thought I was lookin’ cute, ‘cause, you know, my middle ring is disappearin’ cause I stopped eatin’ so much, so, okay, I was looking hot, dammit! I had on a nice halter top, a white skirt, black heels, lotion and a smile. Puh-leaz. I was cute.

Anyway, me and my girl got a table and sat down, since there were only 10 people there when we arrived. After about 40 minutes, we decided to leave, then the guys at the door convinced us to stay by feeding us. Big surprise, the black girls stayed. So the music got better and this skinny dude came over and started talking and eventually sat down for a loooooooong minute. We hung out for a while and then I wanted to dance. He danced with me for a while, I mean after all, he was my man by then, damn. To shake him, I started making the rounds, asking other guys to dance.
I got turned down 5 times in a row. I immediately headed for the bathroom! Oh my goodness!!!
I was humiliated. I stared at myself.
What the HELL??
What was wrong with me? What the hell was wrong with them? I was damned hot and I didn’t even have boogers in my nose, either. I wiped the sheen off my upper lip and ignored the scared, snarky mini-me that popped up on my shoulder telling me I could have lost five more pounds had I not eaten the whole box of Mike& Ike’s and Hot Tamales last week. I pretended to flick my hair and knocked mini-bitch into the overused club toilet and used my shoe to flush her bad news bringin’ ass down the drain.

Before I left the bathroom I washed my hands and added extra lip gloss for encouragement. It's always helped before.
Then I sashayed back to the dance floor where there were these cool retro seats like huge upside down red ring holders. I sit down and wait for a good song.
Then this lady hits the dance floor as I get up. She's a petite black lady, short hair, wearing a white skirt, 3 inch silver heels, energy for days and she's stomping around dancing funky, stooping down--legs open, she’s holding her skirt closed then getting up, jumping on one foot, smiling, marching around shouting, FUCK 'EM! LOL
She was shouting to all the guys who wouldn't dance with us amazing Femme Fantastik women. FUCK 'EM!
Let me tell you. We cracked up! Turns out it was her 50th birthday! Nobody could believe it. She looked like she was 30. Young, old, fat, skinny, it didn’t matter, women hit the dance floor. All night until I left at 2:30 AM, we partied our butts off. It was funny to see younger girls of all races coming in the club watching and laughing at us, as we danced, rapped to the old school music. Then they got up and partied with us too! I'm tellin' you, it was a night to remember. I partied hard, and if a man asked me to dance, I was likely already on the dance floor. The men I’d asked to dance, never danced. They held up the wall all night long, and for once, I was glad it wasn’t me.

Despite the men, we had a ball. Femme Fantastik is the phrase for all women. It was wild to meet women over old school music; to sing, dance and know that even though there were men within our reach, they were still waiting for something a little bit better than us, and we were still on the deepest level responsible for our own happiness. To be fair there were men out there with their women and even a couple men who danced alone. But eventually they had dance partners because by then it had become one big party where we just had fun.

To many happy days ahead!

Carmen

The Consummate Writer

2006-06-11T07:25:00.000-04:00

Why is it that I can't find my pages? I had them in my office and was plodding through the plot and then the worst possible thing happened. The phone rang. I always tell my children answering the phone and door are optional, but seeing as though I was struggling with my synopsis, the phone was a nice distraction.

I grabbed it and started talking. Now I have a rule. When I'm on the phone, I have to be doing some form of housework. Sweeping, dusting, folding clothes, assembling the garbage--something productive besides just running my mouth. So I'm chatting away about my vacation when the egg timer goes off. That means get off the phone in my house. I go back to my office and--no pages!

What the hell?
Now this is my most favorite phrase in the world. Where are they? I rifle through the junk on my desk. I search the printers and the bathrooms. Hey, you never know. Then I start backwards. What was I doing as I was talking? Sweeping! I go back to the closet. No pages. Dusting. I search the den, kitchen, foyer, no pages. I'm getting frustrated. I go look in the car, Okay. I'd never gone to the car in the first place, but when I'm on the phone who knows what I might be thinking about, but no pages.
I search the laundry room and the baskets. No pages. By now my stomach is hurting and I'm seriously considering running my phone over. I don't need this kind of stress. I can't reconstruct these pages. I can't remember what I was thinking just over an hour ago.

I go back to my office and print the hardcopy pages and sit down, but I'm so upset that I've lost the work, I get up again, thinking the pages didn't just walk away, maybe if I eat, I'll remember where I put them. I stare into the refrigerator, not seeing the pages or anything interesting to eat. I look at the clock. I've wasted a complete hour.
What the hell!
By now my head is hurting and I go lay down. I'm almost asleep when the dryer goes off. I get up bereating myself. If I would just stay focused on one task at a time, I would be fine. My grade school teacher was right when she marked the box 'makes good use of time', no.
I grab the basket and open the dryer, start pulling out the white clothes and out slides warm, crispy white pages. I found them!
I'm thrilled. I leave the laundry, go back to my office and sit down.

Tracey Crawford. . .hmm. It's a toss up between her story or Julian and Vivian.
My phone rings. It's Brenda Jackson! I haven't talked to her in ages.

Another Crawford story or Brenda. What should I do?

cg

Carmen Green

2006-06-09T22:41:00.000-04:00

Hi Everyone!

I have finally joined the millenium and have a blog! What do I talk about? I always wonder what do readers want to know about writers. We're extremely boring--well, I am. Or do people want to know what makes us tick?

Let me tell you a few things about me. I'm chronically lost, even with directions, and when I wake up and think hurray, I'm cured, I can see, I'm still disappointed to find that I've yet again fallen asleep and woken up with my glasses on.

Ah well, that's enough about me for today. I will write more another day after I write chapters.

Stay tuned and drop me a line or two.

Upcoming news--new releases, past releases and speaking engagements