I wanted to do something for my
200th blog post, but I couldn't really find a topic to talk about. So, naturally, I'll just reflect on this blog, and my writing career in general.
It's been at least
five years since I started this blog. I started it in conjunction with the release of my second book,
Raise Your Brown Black Fist 2: MORE Political Shouts of an Angry Afro Latino (Outskirts Press, 2011), back in 2011. I did it as a way to supplement my writing career, and to help promote my political activism (as well as my books). I can't really say how successful I've been since starting this blog, but I have surprisingly been able to reach a number of people that I never even knew existed, or expected to know that
I existed. I've posted excerpts, thoughts, rants, reports, and promoted numerous events (as well as my book releases) on this blog. I'm surprised to have reached 200 posts, considering how skeptical I was at starting a blog. I didn't want it to be something that I was inconsistent with, and rarely participated in; that would bode badly for me, and my writing career. But, here I am, promoting my 200th post. That's tenacity for you.
The journey was long. I've always wanted to artistically express myself, ever since I was a child. I thought that I'd found my calling during my junior high school years back in the mid 80s, when I'd wanted to be a comic book artist/writer. Of course, reality slapped me in the face really hard back then; at that time, you only had the big two to work for, and it was
very hard to get into either company. Image hadn't been formed yet, and Vertigo, Dark Horse, and Valiant Comics were just starting up, and trying to make a name for themselves. Not to mention, my artwork just didn't measure up to what was out there imho, especially compared to the comics that I collected. That dream died a horrible death.
My next incarnation as a writer was that of a screen writer. I'd actually fallen into that by accident. I was definitely feeling lost, having lost my ambition to be a comic book artist/writer, and basically floated by the next few years. It was the result of a class assignment for one of my business classes (I'd attended a vocational high school) during junior year, in which we were supposed to write an advertisement for a product. My product...? A commercial for a TV sitcom. My project impressed my teacher so much, she suggested to me that, if I chose to attend college, that I should take up Communications (Film & Television, specifically) because she though that I would really be able to excel in that field creatively. Thoroughly excited, that was what I pursued. I'd basically spent (or, should I say,
wasted?) the rest of my teens and 20s pursuing that goal. I'd written about this in my third book
In My Lifetime: funny Stories of Life Experiences (Outskirts Press, 2014). I've written dozens of scripts; feature-length films, episodic television (hour long dramas, sitcoms), and even a few animated series. The only problem was trying to get my projects produced.
You see...film making/television production is very much a
collaborative effort, meaning that you need the help of others to produce your project. I'd held up my end of the bargain by being the story teller; it was now up to the other person to help push that story along. I'd reached out to everyone that I could; agents, screenwriting contests, independent production companies created by Black actors...no dice on any of those fronts. I even tried to work with knuckleheads that took classes at DFA (Digital Film Academy), or at the New York Film Academy. I wasn't some snob who was above doing a guerrilla-style production with a (fellow) novice filmmaker; I just wanted to see my script become a reality on the big screen. Unfortunately, no one bit; I kept running into arrogant-assed, Oreo filmmakers who thought that they were better than me, even though they had absolutely
no resume to backup their ego. By the time my early 30s hit, I was done with the whole thing. I moved out of New York, and headed for greener pastures....
I moved down south (Virginia, to be exact), and spent the next eight years there. I got more involved in activism, and started doing some other writing. I'd worked for an online magazine (that I basically put on the map with my writing), and worked closely with the local chapter of a Pan African organization. I'd gotten involved with other writers (novelists, this time), and learned a great deal about the publishing industry. I ended up having a falling out with the people at the e-magazine I wrote for, and ended up quitting/"got fired" as the result of a nasty falling out, and eventually left the local chapter of that Pan African organization. After writing a few online posts on Facebook, I eventually learned about P.O.D. publishing, and published my first book
Raise Your Brown Black Fist: The Political Shouts of an Angry Afro Latino (Authorhouse, 2010). From that point on, I'd left Virginia for Maryland, spent four more years out there, and then eventually moved back to New York in 2014 with three books, and a focus to become a fulltime writer.
Things haven't gone exactly the way that I wanted them to the last few years. Honestly, I've struggled.
A LOT!!! MIGHTILY!!! People who I thought were my friends, ended up not being friends, and have been summarily cut off. The good thing that I
can say about this experience, is that I've created more books, furthering my writing career. I enjoy being a writer; I just hate the nonsupport, and phony people. You work your ass off to promote your projects, and people tend to brush you off like a child doing some busy work to stay out of their face, never paying you any mind.
So now...I'm working on another book project, and am focusing on relocating to another city. I'm hoping to be out of here after the new year of 2017. My luck always did improve when I was living in another city outside of New York. Off to better and more opportunities, and better, greener pastures. Wish me luck...and buy a few copies of my books.
Keep the fist raised!!!!
