Bernice L. McFadden's Blog, page 9

Wordless Wednesday: TM & BM Catch Up In HotLanta...

Bernice L. McFadden

An Open Letter To Bernice L. McFadden #WritertoWriterLove

It's always nice to hear from readers who are also writers. As writers they can empathize about the undertaking of creating something from scratch..the sacrifice involved and the highs and lows that come along with starting and completing a story..

I received this letter from novelist, Alretha Thomas...and it really made my day. Please check out her books.

An Open Letter to Bernice L. McFadden.


Okay, Ms. McFadden. You listen to me and you hear me good! You are anointed. Your mind, your heart, your soul, your hands. Anointed. It’s funny sometimes how God decides to choose certain individuals for greatness in this life. Many people come to mind. Ghandi, King, Mandela, Obama, Oprah, Jordan, and the list can go on and on. Within that group he decided to include you! He decided to give you a special gift. The ability to turn a phrase so sweet, so original, so awe-striking, it leaves the reader wondering how in the world did she come up with that? Did she go to some faraway planet and dip her hand in a tub of nectar filled with adjectives, nouns, verbs and metaphors, mixed up in just the right way? How is she able to describe the ordinary and make it sound extraordinary? How is she able to spin a tale that keeps you turning the pages so fast that you rip them from the spine? Who are you Bernice L. McFadden? What are you made of? How are you able to write the way you do? What is in that head of yours covered in locks? I just hope and pray you know that you are special and that God has entrusted in you a rare gift. He chose you! Wow, what an honor. You make words taste good on the page! They sing, dance, and tap dance. They do the Funky Chicken, the Four Square, the Cabbage Patch, the Jerk and the Jitterbug. They sing gospel, rock and roll and pop. They knock you out in the first round. Girl, I’m scared of you! Every word, sentence, paragraph, chapter I read, I truly know that there’s a God. You’re writing is a reflection of his greatness, his goodness, is everything. Every good and perfect gift is from above. ~James 1:17
Alretha Thomas
www.Alrethathomas.com

Bernice

Happy Birthday To Me...#LifeAfter

#LIFEAFTER HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME
THE ROAD FROM HERE LOOKS BRIGHT...
Yesterday, I celebrated my 48th birthday in Barbados with friends and family. We spent a lovely day on the beach and I even learned how to paddle board!
Later, took a moment for myself and swam way, way out into the ocean. I went further than I've been in years. So far that the people on the beach looked like specks.
Being in the middle of that beautiful, calm, velvety body of water made me feel free and very grateful. 
While out there,  I thanked the universe for allowing me to see another year and for placing good people in my life and continuing to bless me with good health and sound mind.
It was in that moment that I realized just how much of a charmed life I have led and continue to lead...
As always, I don't know what my future holds, but I'm banking on it being bright and so I continue to walk boldly towards it.....






Catch Up With Me At These Events...
Crossroads Writers Conference (Macon, Georgia)Oct 4th - 7th
Sisters Sippin' Tea 9th Annual Fall for Books and Brunch (Tulsa, Ok)October 12th @10AM
Bernice L. McFadden, Elizabeth Nunez -Women's National Book Association’s National Reading Group Month, Strand Book Store, New York, NY
October 23rd @ 7PM


"Happiness cannot be traveled to, owned, earned, or worn. It is the spiritual experience of living every minute with love, grace & gratitude." - Denis Waitley
STAY IN TOUCH           123 Street Name City, ST - 555.555.5555Forward this email This email was sent to azsa@ix.netcom.com by bernicemcfadden@hotmail.com |  Update Profile/Email Address | Instant removal with SafeUnsubscribe™ | Privacy Policy.Bernice McFadden | 654 Crescent Street | Brooklyn | NY | 11208

Bernice L. McFadden

Second Chances...

I'm a firm believer in second, third, tenth...infinite chances!My life is a great example of infinite chances.
Nowhere is a Place was my sixth and final novel with my first publisher. It was published in 2006. It came and went without much pomp and circumstance. 

I hated the cover art. The story itself is very close to my heart and soul because it was born from my genealogy research. I dedicated the book to my father who had died the previous year. The Washington Post declared Nowhere is a Place as one of The Best Books of 2006.
Fast forward seven years (lucky seven!) and Nowhere is a Place is enjoying a second life...my current publisher, Akashic Books reissued the novel this year. It has a beautiful new cover and a lovely blurb from a gifted and celebrated writer (Lynn Nottage) who I greatly admire. 



And now, it's been selected for National Reading Group Month (October 2013) from the Women's National Book Association.
Second chances, rock!




Bernice L. McFadden

Introducing the Turkish version of SUGAR: SKIN FOR RENT

Bernice L. McFadden

About Frenemies & Fair-Weather Friends...

I've been thinking a lot about the relationships in my life. About relationships in general. Mostly though, about the ones I've lost over the years.

A few days ago, I stumbled across this quote that really hit home for me:

“The friend in my adversity I shall always cherish most. I can better trust those who helped to relieve the gloom of my dark hours than those who are so ready to enjoy with me the sunshine of my prosperity.” – Ulysses S. Grant


There was this woman who I considered not just a friend, but a sister-friend. 
We spent a lot of time together and of course shared a lot of secrets and dreams. When my dreams came to fruition, the friendship slowly dissolved. Overtime, my phone calls and emails went unanswered. We had not had a disagreement of any kind and so her refusal to correspond with me left me completely baffled.
I was shared this with another friend of mine, and that friend suggested that the former friend was jealous of my accomplishments.
Jealous?
The idea seemed ridiculous to me. We were friends, we loved each other like sisters, how in the world could jealousy exist between two people who love each other?
If life made it so that she was in my position, I would have been jumping up and down with joy for her! Not removing myself from her life because of envy!
But the more I thought about it, the more it seemed to make sense. And the realization made me very, very sad.
Another woman, someone I had known since 1985, stopped taking my phone calls after she attended a party at my home. This was someone I didn't see often and we only spoke on the phone a few times a year, but when we did see each other or spoke on the phone, we conversed for hours! It was as if no time at all had passed between us. I'd know this woman since 1985!
But after she came to my home...that was that! 
I reached out to her a few months after the party and her tone was as cold and as frigid as a winter.
The flip side of course are those people that Ulysses S. Grant references in his quote. 
When my life flipped over on its side and started flapping around like a fish out of water, a few of those people who had been perfectly content to be by my side when things were GREAT - scattered.
I think those are the "friends" that hurt me the most.
But as my cousin says: "A bad don't happen

" Which means, everything happens for a reason - and what we may perceive as a tragedy, is most often a blessing in disguise.
I'm happy that those people removed themselves from my life. They actually saved me the trouble of doing it myself down line.
And I'm proud to say that the head count was low...I can't count them on one hand, so that is a blessing.
I'm very fortunate to have wonderful, loving, trusting people in my life. Some people don't have one person they can put their confidence in and I am blessed to have dozens.
#grateful

About Dreaming...

My childhood life was not always a bed or roses and so I took up escapism at a very early age. My favorite things to do was read and daydream.

I'd dream that I was a princess or that this man and woman who I called mommy and daddy had actually kidnapped me from MY REAL PARENTS - who did not hit and yell at their children..or each other.

Later, I daydreamed about becoming a writer and traveling the world.




As a grown woman with an child, I looked forward to bedtime. I would turn of the lights and the television, climb into bed, close my eyes and script a movie, starring me, in my head.

In that movie, I was a bestselling author, the owner of a beautiful old home and fabulous, fast car! My books were selling in the millions and all had been adapted to the silver screen. In my movie starring me, I met all of my writerly influences and in my movie starring me - all of my dreams had come true!

I believe I can safely say that I played that movie nightly from 1990 right up to 1999 when I secured my first book contract.

The house followed and so did the fast car..I'd been traveling extensively all through the 90's. I've met all except one of my influences and while I haven't sold millions of books, I've sold thousands....my books have not yet been adapted to the silver screen...but I suspect I will see that happen in my lifetime.

But something strange occurred after I bought my house and my car and secured a second book deal. I became a bit complacent where dreaming was concerned. Maybe my Catholic school background had something to do with it.

You see I'd achieved the dreams and goals I had set for myself and Catholicism teaches us not to be greedy - not to ask for more than what you need, to be satisfied with what you have.

I think I felt guilty about desiring more, so I stopped dreaming - well at least I stopped scripting my dreams.

My scripted dreams were replaced with worries.

I worried about securing another book contract. I worried about losing my home and my car. I worried about not having a enough money to pay my bills or buy food. I worried about getting sick. I worried about dying.

Worry works exactly the way hopes and dreams work - they are all intentions.

Intentions are like seeds that we plant in the soil of the universe. Sooner or later those seeds germinate and then in no time at all, you have a seedling.

And before I knew it,  not unlike my dreams, most of my worries had come to fruition.

So I'm back to square one. And square one ain't so bad. I'm learning how to dream again. I'm scripting some great ones, so stay tuned...............#LifeAfter

Nesting....

When I had my home in Brooklyn (the place where I wrote the majority of my novels), I had to make sure the house was spotless (especially my office) before I plunged into my writing. I also took a few days to flip through my previously published novels. I would linger over passages and try to relive the moments in time when those words flowed through me.

I did much of the same when I was carrying my daughter. The closer I inched toward my delivery date, the more fanatical I became about the cleanliness of my space. Also, I can clearly remember removing the baby clothes from the dresser drawers to gaze at them and fold and re-fold them, before placing them back in the dresser drawers. It became a daily ritual.

It's all nesting...whether you're preparing to give birth to a child or a book...

This novel that I'm working on is going to be unique for two reasons:

1. It will be the first book that I have written on-the-go.
2. It will be the first book I've written with a male protagonist.

I don't know which of the aforementioned scares me the most.

Anyway, back to nesting...

We are more than halfway through the summer and like every summer before this one - I don't write. But every summer, like clockwork, I beat myself up for NOT WRITING...

This my friends is called: Process! (LOL)

So here we are in August and the days are getting shorter and the morning and night air is cooler and the leaves have begun to brown, curl and fall to the ground, which is always my cue that my time is growing near.

And like the squirrels, I have begun to prepare for a long winter. Or in my case, a winter filled with words...

I've made some changes and additions to my cozy little room here in Brooklyn. Where as before, this room was just a place to sleep - I'm now acclimating myself by spending more time in it - reading, praying, thinking...this so that when the time comes for me to lock myself away and become with my story - the distractions come with a new or unfamiliar space won't be so..well...distracting....

P.S. I was scrolling through old manuscripts and found the original prologue to my 2010 novel: Glorious -- I prefer the one that made it to the printer over this one. But I'd love to hear your thoughts!


In her dreams she was an old book. Brown leather binding handled so often her hide became as soft and as pliable as expensive silk fabric. Cracked spine, withered pages with gilded edges, black print; faded gray from time reveal a tale as tall and as old as the magnolia trees she loved so.She is an old book, and over the decades she has been shelved, wrapped in plain brown paper and then again in colorful Christmas foil. Boxed and gifted, boxed and forgotten, and then remembered, searched for, found and set out beneath a hot summer sun with a sticker stuck to her face announcing: Used. 50 cents.Bought and sold a hundred times over. Tossed aside, left behind, used to balance a kitchen table and then to whack a bothersome fly. She is an old book; dog-eared pages, underlined phrases that moved someone. Footnotes; in blue, black and red ink are scrawled in her margins. Some pages hold carefully crafted bleeding hearts pierced with cupids bow, while some bear angry explanation points and others, multiple question marks behind sentences ensconced in parenthesis. She is an old book.










Bernice L. McFadden

An Open Letter to George Zimmerman

Dear George Zimmerman,

You do not know me, but I live in Brooklyn, NY. I am the mother of one daughter, aunt to one niece and three nephews.

I’ve spent the last sixteen months thinking about Trayvon Martin and you. Wondering of course, how this tragedy would eventually play out and last night a jury of six women confirmed my fears.

George Zimmerman the news is reporting that you have been set free. But that report is grossly incorrect, because your freedom has been snatched away. Your anonymity in this world has come to an end.

I’m sure you have read and heard the comparisons between Emmett Till and Trayvon Martin. I’m curious if you’ve even taken the time too find out who Emmett Till was. If not, let me brief you.

Emmett Till just fifteen years old when he was murdered by J.W. Milam and Roy Bryant in Money, Mississippi in 1955. Emmett Till’s only crime was the badge he wore, and that badge was the color of his skin.

Milam and Bryant murdered Emmett Till because he allegedly whistled at a white woman. Can you imagine taking a life for something so harmless?

Oh, yes I guess that would not be so far fetched for you, because you murdered Trayvon Martin for wearing a hoodie and walking in the rain while carrying a bag of skittles and a soft drink.

Not too long after Milam and Bryant were acquitted for the murder of Emmett Till, they admitted to murdering him. Of course, they could not be trialed again, due to Double Jeopardy.

Their lives going forward were unhappy. They, not unlike you, lost their anonymity in this country. They fled Mississippi for Texas, believing that they could live a nice quiet life there. But that was not the case. They were harassed and taunted in the streets. Their own kind called them “Child Killers.”

I remind you that the year was 1955, a time when social media wasn’t even a thought.

Both men would eventually die of cancer. Well, guilt will do that to a body.

But I digress.

George Zimmerman, the news reports say that you have been found not guilty and that you are a free man. But none of that is true. You are guilty, you know it, God knows it and most people, who have followed this case, know it was well.
And you are far from free.

This is 2013, and thanks to social media, CNN and other news outlets, your face and this case has reached all four corners of this globe. The whole world is your prison.

It’s ironic really, similar to Trayvon Martin and other black men in this country; you are now unable to freely walk the streets of your neighborhood or any other neighborhood for that fact. You are a marked man.

Any where in the world that you go, there will be someone there, black, white or otherwise, who will recognize you. There will be someone there who sympathized with Trayvon Martin’s parents. There will be someone there who will want to do to you what you did to Trayvon Martin.

What a life to have to live!

A life of looking over your shoulder, of being afraid to open your own mail, not being able to enjoy a meal at your favorite restaurant because, well, cyanide has no taste.

I wish I could say that I pity you George Zimmerman, but I do not.

I do not pity you because you took a child from his parents, and a brother from a brother. I do not pity you George Zimmerman, because you succumbed to the belief that a black life is worth less than a white one.

I wonder, in the seconds after you pulled your concealed gun and squeezed the trigger, sending a bullet straight through Trayvon Martin’s heart – I wonder if in those last moments when the light leaked out of Trayvon’s body, if Trayvon looked you square in the eye and whispered, “Why?”

And did you have an answer for him George?

Did Trayvon at last look human to you? Did you then realize that Trayvon was someone’s child?  Were you sorry, even for a second?

These are just my musings, and of course do not require a response from you.

For sixteen months I have prayed for Trayvon Martin and his family. Today, I pray for you George Zimmerman:

I pray that with every beat of your heart, you hear Trayvon Martin’s screams for help ringing in your ears. I pray that every time you close your eyes, you see Trayvon Martin’s face swirling in the darkness.

Amen.


Intention is a powerful thing George Zimmerman, and so is karma.



May God Have Mercy On Your Soul…



Bernice L. McFadden











Bernice L. McFadden

An Open Letter to the Residents of Serenbe

Dearest,

I want to thank all of you for allowing me the time and space to create. Thank you for opening up your homes and hearts to me.

Serenbe is an exceptional place because you all are exceptional people.

I leave here lighter, happier and more spiritually centered than I've been in quite sometime. Thank you for that.

I hope my travels bring me back this way for a cupcake, a stroll through the woods or dinner with friends.

xoxo,



Bernice



Bernice L. McFadden