What's good fam?
It’s been a bit of an uphill battle at times but the first four chapters are finally edited. I'm 99.9% sure that it'll require more edits in the future but its solid enough to proceed. The book has begun to look more like the product I’ve seen in my head since its inception.
As you may remember the query letter for this book has bedeviled me for a good three years now. But praise be to the good Jesus my twitter detours have paid dividends. Along with the strippers, celebrities and porn stars I’ve found agents, agent interns, editors, and publishers. My fly-on-the-wall-stealth approach has landed all sorts of cool twitter chat groups. #Queries, #askintern, and #askagent are but a small sample of what's available to peruse.
My ability to contact the other side has pleasantly multiplied and I’ve become a better consumer in the process. I no longer pine for an agent to swoop down from the angelic perch, which all agents live (hyperbole) I now research intently for the proper match for my literary novel and me. I’m reminded how this process has really followed the path I dialogued with God about in our strategy sessions (yep God still takes my calls). I want to develop a solid relationship with my work. I believe that requires people with other vantage points and an eye for detail who give a shit. I believe when wisdom speaks we should pay attention.
#Askintern is a clever chat run by literary agent interns. Agent interns (in my humble opinion) are the drawbridge operators to author-land and the first line of defense against shitty writing for the gatekeepers. I've long maintained that any chance to meet the wizard resides in my ability to wow the person who lets down the bridge. She (the intern whose name I won’t blast off just yet) shared that aspiring authors can send their query letters and she will give feedback at no charge. What!!!! The chance to finally receive unbiased, knowledgeable feedback made my heart skip several beats. And I knew I was good money because I didn't allow my imagination to think this was some pathway to the magical kingdom of authors. I saw it for what it was, a professional critique of my query letter.
Her feedback was rich with the right questions, things I could have thought about on my own but when your close to something it begs for perspective. I've sand bagged my post so I’ll end here but please do come back for more.
On the way out please enjoy the Camp Lo video they're still one of my favorite crews.
So this is it/what/Luchini falling from the sky/let’s get rich/what …
Jul 23, 2010
Jul 8, 2010
Can't Knock the Hustle ...
What's good family?
I’ve kept my nose to the grindstone, hustled for my dreams and showed extraordinary dedication to the task of editing. But then there is this Twitter addiction I’ve recently developed. When that red light blinks on my blackberry delicately requesting my attention for a brief jaunt into the musings of celebrities, strippers and the latest Lebron James rumors (please dear Lord let Bron-Bron choose the Knicks) I must answer her. Twitter is my side piece she only ask for whatever time I can spare until I actually look at a time stamp and see it’s been forty-five minutes of virtual voyeur practice ... but I can’t stop, I have a problem, I need help ... even though I can quit anytime I want to ... I’m just not ready yet #classicjunkyspeak. See! Even in the blog she finds me! Ok but let me get back to the Knicks.
Saturday May 29, 1993. Game three Knicks and Bulls in the conference finals. The Knicks were up two games to none on the mighty two-time defending champs. 2-0! Held court at home, didn’t let them steal one. It was game time and I sat with my game face on flanked in the day room by Boo, PJ, Tiny and the rest of the New York squad. Our shit-talk to the Chicago dudes was on fire. All those years spent watching mediocre basketball at the Garden with my dad and Shante went to the playoffs while I watched it on TV in rehab. Bob Fennimore, a friend of my father worked for WOR-TV back when the Knicks played on Channel 9. I felt like a season ticket holder we went to so many games at the Garden. We had floor seats behind the basket. Back when they were red. They became lavender when Dave Checketts and Pat Riley took over. I use to go when it was Red Holzmen before it was Hubie Brown before it was Rick Patino and the Bomb Squad. Holzmen was my dad’s dude. Ray Williams, Michael Ray Richardson, Truck Robinson, Sly Williams, Rory Sparrow, Marvin Webster, Bill Cartwright. I was raised on the Classic Roundball logo listening to the Garden sound system blare ‘We are New York and we know basketball, we will win it all, cause we’re the New York Knicks.’
But I was also a tongue wagging-long-shorts-black-ankle-socks-wearing-Air Jordan poster-having kind of dude too. To be a Knick fan and a Jordan lover is pure self-hate. Oh and in case you wondered the last time the Knicks won the championship it was 1973 and I was one. The Yankees and Giants have taken our team/fan relationship to its zenith. The Knicks have continually delivered heartbreak and disillusionment. But in the ‘92-‘93 season Pat Riley had us believing. They were 60-22, the number one seed and on a collision course with the Bulls who had knocked us out the playoffs three of the last four years. And just like Jordan had to go through Bird’s Celtics and Isaiah’s Pistons we knew all roads went through his Bulls. And of course what do the Knicks do in game three? They shit the bed. The Bulls toyed with them. Just embarrassed and frustrated the Knicks. Of course John Starks got ejected when he went after Jordan. Like he was gonna touch the franchise. The Knicks had TWENTY turnovers in the game! The Bulls scored sixty-two in the first half! Outside of Ewing’s twenty-one points nobody stepped up. It was tough to sit through. Most of the bandwagon New York niggaz turned on the Knicks before the end of the third quarter. Starting with that game the Knicks lost by twenty, ten, three, and eight. But game five was the worst! I still see all six-foot-eleven of Charles Smith’s-I can’t-understand-why-he-didn’t-just-dunk-it-ass getting his shot blocked while leaking blood from stab wombs as the refs swallowed their whistles. It still remains in the top five worst sports moments of my life.
These wounds of a life long Knicks fan have healed with time. And tomorrow’s announcement brings the anticipation that one day my dad and I will celebrate with delirium as the Knicks play late into June.
What better video to play?
See you on the other side ...
M
I’ve kept my nose to the grindstone, hustled for my dreams and showed extraordinary dedication to the task of editing. But then there is this Twitter addiction I’ve recently developed. When that red light blinks on my blackberry delicately requesting my attention for a brief jaunt into the musings of celebrities, strippers and the latest Lebron James rumors (please dear Lord let Bron-Bron choose the Knicks) I must answer her. Twitter is my side piece she only ask for whatever time I can spare until I actually look at a time stamp and see it’s been forty-five minutes of virtual voyeur practice ... but I can’t stop, I have a problem, I need help ... even though I can quit anytime I want to ... I’m just not ready yet #classicjunkyspeak. See! Even in the blog she finds me! Ok but let me get back to the Knicks.
Saturday May 29, 1993. Game three Knicks and Bulls in the conference finals. The Knicks were up two games to none on the mighty two-time defending champs. 2-0! Held court at home, didn’t let them steal one. It was game time and I sat with my game face on flanked in the day room by Boo, PJ, Tiny and the rest of the New York squad. Our shit-talk to the Chicago dudes was on fire. All those years spent watching mediocre basketball at the Garden with my dad and Shante went to the playoffs while I watched it on TV in rehab. Bob Fennimore, a friend of my father worked for WOR-TV back when the Knicks played on Channel 9. I felt like a season ticket holder we went to so many games at the Garden. We had floor seats behind the basket. Back when they were red. They became lavender when Dave Checketts and Pat Riley took over. I use to go when it was Red Holzmen before it was Hubie Brown before it was Rick Patino and the Bomb Squad. Holzmen was my dad’s dude. Ray Williams, Michael Ray Richardson, Truck Robinson, Sly Williams, Rory Sparrow, Marvin Webster, Bill Cartwright. I was raised on the Classic Roundball logo listening to the Garden sound system blare ‘We are New York and we know basketball, we will win it all, cause we’re the New York Knicks.’
But I was also a tongue wagging-long-shorts-black-ankle-socks-wearing-Air Jordan poster-having kind of dude too. To be a Knick fan and a Jordan lover is pure self-hate. Oh and in case you wondered the last time the Knicks won the championship it was 1973 and I was one. The Yankees and Giants have taken our team/fan relationship to its zenith. The Knicks have continually delivered heartbreak and disillusionment. But in the ‘92-‘93 season Pat Riley had us believing. They were 60-22, the number one seed and on a collision course with the Bulls who had knocked us out the playoffs three of the last four years. And just like Jordan had to go through Bird’s Celtics and Isaiah’s Pistons we knew all roads went through his Bulls. And of course what do the Knicks do in game three? They shit the bed. The Bulls toyed with them. Just embarrassed and frustrated the Knicks. Of course John Starks got ejected when he went after Jordan. Like he was gonna touch the franchise. The Knicks had TWENTY turnovers in the game! The Bulls scored sixty-two in the first half! Outside of Ewing’s twenty-one points nobody stepped up. It was tough to sit through. Most of the bandwagon New York niggaz turned on the Knicks before the end of the third quarter. Starting with that game the Knicks lost by twenty, ten, three, and eight. But game five was the worst! I still see all six-foot-eleven of Charles Smith’s-I can’t-understand-why-he-didn’t-just-dunk-it-ass getting his shot blocked while leaking blood from stab wombs as the refs swallowed their whistles. It still remains in the top five worst sports moments of my life.
These wounds of a life long Knicks fan have healed with time. And tomorrow’s announcement brings the anticipation that one day my dad and I will celebrate with delirium as the Knicks play late into June.
What better video to play?
See you on the other side ...
M
Jul 2, 2010
It's a doggy dog world ...
"Forced to sit still for instruction I realized how out of control I was ..."
Donte -
What's good family,
As a child by far my favorite time to shop (besides Christmas of course) was for back to school. The new smell of crispy trapper keepers, notebooks, pencils, rulers and anything else that had an official school feel to it, sent chills of excitement through my little heart. My parents knew full well each purchase would be buried in my locker, under my bed or lost in my book bag by mid November. But every year my mother shopped dutifully filled with hope that this was the batch, which would magically jump-start my procrastination. But procrastination and I were old friends melded together by a deep bond. Why do homework when I can play video games? Techmo Bowl for the NES dominated my senior year in high school every day straight home, to my room, book bag thrown on my bed for my daily quest to the super bowl. By ’93 Super Techmo Bowl came out for the Super NES and I was glued to the television thoroughly impressed by the awesome game play additions (season long stat tracker, post season awards, field flip at halftime and a halftime show with cheerleaders … yes! I’m a football video game geek.)
Back in ’93 West coast Hip Hop boomed heavy from my speakers at the same rate as the East. Cypress Hill, King Tee, Pac was still bi-coastal, and of course Dr. Dre and Snoop. (Lifetime goal PSA: Snoop is high on the list of people I want to puff with.) Life held so many undefined possibilities but I chose the path of dream vagabond and was taught the effects of soul erosion.
Much like his journey from Snoop Doggy Dog to Snoop Dog, time has also provided me an opportunity to change my direction and redefine my image more in the image of me.
Thanks for the company at the table of my mind.
Watch and enjoy one of the coolest Snoop videos ever.
Blessings,
M
Donte -
What's good family,
As a child by far my favorite time to shop (besides Christmas of course) was for back to school. The new smell of crispy trapper keepers, notebooks, pencils, rulers and anything else that had an official school feel to it, sent chills of excitement through my little heart. My parents knew full well each purchase would be buried in my locker, under my bed or lost in my book bag by mid November. But every year my mother shopped dutifully filled with hope that this was the batch, which would magically jump-start my procrastination. But procrastination and I were old friends melded together by a deep bond. Why do homework when I can play video games? Techmo Bowl for the NES dominated my senior year in high school every day straight home, to my room, book bag thrown on my bed for my daily quest to the super bowl. By ’93 Super Techmo Bowl came out for the Super NES and I was glued to the television thoroughly impressed by the awesome game play additions (season long stat tracker, post season awards, field flip at halftime and a halftime show with cheerleaders … yes! I’m a football video game geek.)
Back in ’93 West coast Hip Hop boomed heavy from my speakers at the same rate as the East. Cypress Hill, King Tee, Pac was still bi-coastal, and of course Dr. Dre and Snoop. (Lifetime goal PSA: Snoop is high on the list of people I want to puff with.) Life held so many undefined possibilities but I chose the path of dream vagabond and was taught the effects of soul erosion.
Much like his journey from Snoop Doggy Dog to Snoop Dog, time has also provided me an opportunity to change my direction and redefine my image more in the image of me.
Thanks for the company at the table of my mind.
Watch and enjoy one of the coolest Snoop videos ever.
Blessings,
M
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