Excuse me while I get to bitchin’: Staring 2015 in the face

I’ll be damned if I didn’t do that just a year ago. I shot the trailer to North of the Grove this time last year. Went deep into the pocket for it. Had written the book a year prior. They say halfway to crashing into the ground, suicide jumpers get several moments of bliss powerful enough to break the heart, enough to make the mind say to itself, “Jesus, this is all I was after, moment like this.” Perhaps it is so sweet because it is the end. I been done juimped. This is a long fuckin’ freefall and I ain’t had no tickle me Elmo moment and I see no net to this day.  #ijs

This pic was me at my cousin’s Danya Wilson’s wedding at Miami Beach. It was stylish, joyous and packed with people looking accomplished. Real estate movers partying and exchanging numbers. Entertainment industry types with their trophy tricks. Hell, Trina even came through! I stood off from all of them. I couldn’t help wondering if I should have been there. Did what I could to blend with this tycoon pose… The red tape to get the novels into the high schools still has not passed. I have had hundreds of dollars of money donated to purchase copies of the novel for a boot camp program sitting on a desk for weeks because folks haven’t sat down to simply sign off.  I have several meetings with the board of education lined up for January. Just did a pleasure promotional blitz for the book courtesy of Ella D. Curry Creations, had a great interview from it.

Playwright Keith Wade went over my webisode version of North of the Grove. He’s a visiting dramatic theatre scholar at Florida Memorial University who just had a delightful little play called Every Year, performed by the kids on campus. He loved the story, praised its structure. The advice is the same, less talking head, more event-driven. I have been revising for the last couple of days. I can see the improvements, the changes.. It’s just, dammit, I want to get out of this phase. 2014 is up.  I’m sick of writing about shit about to get ready to happen. If I were following this blog I’d get sick of reading this shit.