Nana Ekua Brew-Hammond's Blog, page 72

Meet My New Intern...

Hey Guys!

My name is Donnice Peterson I am an 18 year old incoming sophomore at Delaware State University. I am currently studying Public Relations and Advertising, in which I hope to make a future career out of. I  have a growing passion for writing, and I will continue to let it mature. One day I hope to freelance write for several magazines, preferably Ebony. My heart belongs to God, Family, Friends, and Fashion. And each day I incorporate my love for each thing into my work.

As Nana's intern I will learn how to successfully pitch a story to an editor, fact-check a story, use social media to promote a small business, and learn the ins and out of managing a small business. Each aspect of my internship will potentially help mold me as a writer and future editor. While learning I will also be assisting Nana by transcribing interviews, sending pitches to editors, creating blog posts, researching new social media sites for authors and much more. This will help me gain experience in this field while also serving as an assistant for Nana. I truly appreciate the experience and hope to grow along with Nana and her endeavors.

The Foolishness of Belief

Yesterday I had the blessing to sit on a panel at the National Black Writers Conference, and the week before that, the honor to join authors Ayesha Harruna Attah and NoViolet Bulawayo in a conversation that was recorded for SaharaTV. In both sessions, and at many readings, lectures, panels and events I've attended or participated in, the same question came up: "What steps do you advise the aspiring writer take to enter the profession?"

It's a great question I don't think any writer really has the official answer to. One can advise all day long about joining a writing group or honing your craft or networking with the literary community -- good advice, by the way -- but i've decided what it really boils down to is the foolishness of belief.

When I examine my desire and ambition to become a published writer, I can only marvel at my own foolishness. I consider myself to be gifted when it comes to stringing words together in a pleasant way, but who am/was I to think my words deserved to be in print? Now that I have a little better understanding of the publishing industry and how it works, I can understand (sort of) why agent after agent rejected me for all those years before I ultimately got signed and sold my manuscript.

(from right to left) National Black Writers Conference Honorees Ishmael Reed, Dr. Howard Dodson, Ngugi Wa Thiong'o, student winner of poetry prize, poet Sonia Sanchez, student winner of fiction prize, board & staff members, South Africa's Poet Laureate Keorapetse Kgositsil, and NY1's Cheryl Wills



I am not a celebrity with instant name recognition or a massive following. Nor am I "connected" to anyone in the literary world. All I have are the stories in my mind and heart. And my belief in myself to write the stories I want to read; stories I believe others will be blessed by in some way shape or form.

So, in answer to the million dollar question about what steps to take to become a professional writer, the only advice I have is be foolish enough to believe you're good enough, that what you have to say matters. It starts there. Then, of course, you must focus on meeting the height of your belief.

For some it may take one letter to an agent who totally gets your voice, followed shortly thereafter by a substantial deal with a prominent publisher, sold film rights, etc. For one or two it will happen in some yet to be heard of way involving a yet to be invented app/social publishing tool for writers/etc. For most it will take a variation/combination of years of diligent study, getting into a prestigious MFA program, fastidious and constant honing of your craft, zealous and relentless networking, membership in multiple writing groups, voracious reading, building your social media followers numbers, etc.

Even if you are able to check every box twice, a literary agent and/or publisher may never sign you. You may have to self-publish and sell your books out the trunk of your car like Terry McMillan and E. Lynn Harris did. Through it all, whatever your path ends up becoming, you have to believe.

Faith is the only "formula" I know of that works. It will get you through the countless rejections you may face, the bad/mixed reviews your (finally!) published/self-published work will get, the sparse attendance at your readings, no one at your exhibitors table (the exhibitors table you spent $25 to $400 to reserve!), and slow sales. You need it when you're pitching and pushing month after month, year after year...

You may feel foolish at times, and question why you're even bothering, but in the end, when you come out on the other side of fulfillment no one will have to tell you it was worth it.

Happy April Fool's Day!

Watch American Idol or Start Book #3?

Forgive the February silence. It's been a crazy busy couple of weeks, but I am PSYCHED, RELIEVED, and ELATED to report I've finished my second novel. Now I'm in begging mode, foisting the manscript on a select sample group of kind souls who've agreed to read the thing and help me carve out the bits that don't need to be there anymore.

It's strange being finished. For the last three and a half years, I've traveled everywhere with my laptop, taking an hourlong bus ride to work (rather than a 35 minute train commute), and stealing what moments before work I could at the library so I could write uninterrupted for a blip of time. And now the community I've built (the bus drivers, the security guards who checked my bag on the way in and out of the library, the homeless people who rest up in the warmth and safety of the library...) is no longer part of my morning routine. I can sleep a little later, and read books again; watch every single American Idol audition episode as well as all of my other reality TV favorites without guilt.

Anyway, I was propelled to write today because it's Ghana's 55th Anniversary of Independence from British colonial rule (at least it was a few hours ago), and today the date coincided with Super Tuesday. The convergence of these momentous government-related events has me thinking about what you should do with Independence when you have it. What exactly is the responsibility of Independence?

Now that I've finished my second book, I wonder: should I be taking a mini-break -- or should I pound out the projects in my head, giving voice to the cast of characters alternately singing and soliloquizing in my mind? What about watching all of my DVR'd episode of '80's cartoon Jem and the Holograms? How mini is "mini"? Can I even afford a break at this stage of my career as an author?

My guess is that these are the questions you have in the rudimentary stages of Independence. I've been "independent" from writing Book #2 for 22 days now. Ghana has been Independent for 55 years; America for 236 years. The hope of course is that as my count of years progresses, I'll have figured out those answers for myself and moved on to new questions.

As a Ghanaian, I'm often a witness or participant in conversations about Ghana's level of progress since its globally celebrated Independence in 1957. What has the nation done with Independence? In my new book, I grappled with the question. As the first sub-Saharan African nation to wrestle Independence from the colonizer, Ghana was a benchmark for its neighbors and other colonies around the world, as 17 African nations became Independent three short years later.

But the growing pains of Independence quickly surfaced as euphoria devolved into disillusionment with internal and external forces creating a volatile climate of violence and paranoia that ultimately led to the coup of 1966 that ousted Nkrumah. Four more (successful) coups followed making 1992 (the year I was in Form Four at Mfantsiman Girls' Secondary School in Ghana) the first time Ghana had undergone a democratic election since 1981. Ghana continues to be held up as an example in Africa as we've had three peaceful exchanges of power since the 1992 elections, and the discovery of oil could translate into the chance to improve the economy for all. But again, as we have this chance at financial Independence, what is the best course to take?

I also look at America and what it has done with Independence. Over two hundred years after Washington wrestled independence from the ubiquitous Brits, what has it done? Like its former colonizer, it set about creating colonies or commonwealths of its own, even as it built itself on the backs of forced and indentured labor. Is Independence, once won, about encroaching on the Independence of others? Is that the only way to be successful?

I come back to: what is the responsibility of Independence? As an independent, Christian, Ghanaian-American woman, what am I supposed to be doing? What is my real responsibility to my faith, my family, my countries, myself? I guess the point of Independence is I have the freedom to turn these questions over in my mind, and the liberty to seek out the answers. There will inevitably be missteps and growing pains. That's just part of Independence. Ironically, dependence is part of Independence too, as we need the wisdom, lessons, and mentoring of those who have gone before us to partially inform our own success.

Anyhoo, I continue to muse on the above. Happy Ghanaian Independence Day, people!

I Hope You Can Make It!!

Here's what's coming up!

February 15th, 6p
HER WORD AS WITNESS Q&A with Sharifa Rhodes-Pitts (she wrote the NY Times-lauded Harlem is Nowhere) and me; moderated by Marva Allen.
Skylight Gallery
3rd fl
1368 Fulton Street
Brooklyn, NY 11216
718-636-6949
www.restorationplaza.org


March 31st, 11:45a-1:15p
"Migration and Cultural Memory in the Literature of Black Writers" panel discussion
THE ELEVENTH NATIONAL BLACK WRITERS CONFERENCE
Founders Auditorium on the campus of Medgar Evers College
1650 Bedford Avenue
Brooklyn, New York 11225
718-804-8883
www.nationalblackwritersconference.org
Honorees include Ishmael Reed, Ngũgĩ wa Thiong'o, Nikki Giovanni, and Dr. Howard Dodson

"Kindess is Always Fashionable" - Amelia Barr/Rachel Roy

Buy Rachel Roy's "Kindness" clutch to benefit Ghana-based charity OrphanAID Africa & receive a free copy of Powder Necklace


Happy NEW Year!! I know it's way too late to be asking about Thanksgiving and Christmas/New Year's plans, but nonetheless, I hope you had a great set of holidays including Martin Luther King, Jr day! Mine were super relaxed and recharging, and now I can't believe we're actually 19 days into 2012.

Several months ago, I learned that designer Rachel Roy had created a clutch to benefit the charity OrphanAID Africa. This non-profit is dear to my heart because it works to address the issue of Ghanaian families who can't afford to take care of their kids. In Ghana, and in many so-called developing nations, poor families find themselves in a position where they feel they have no other option but to send their children to wealthier relatives/employers to work as servants (house girls, house boys, garden boys, etc). In some cases, these children are sent to orphanages. OrphanAID Africa supports families at this breaking point, offering financial assistance, job training, and other tools to help keep children at home with their families.

In Powder Necklace, my character Enyo is an acknowledgment of this phenomenon, and in my upcoming book Maids and Mothers, I explore this issue more deeply. Perhaps I identify with this phenomenon so closely because I was sent to Ghana as a pre-teen. I was sent for different reasons, and pretty much pampered by my family; left alone to sulk about my desire to return to the States, but it still struck me deeply to see adolescents and teens working as household staff. As I've gotten older, it continues to bug me. I hate to think of money separating children from their parents and vice-versa.

To that end, I ordered a few of the Rachel Roy clutches--100% of the net profits went to OrphanAID--and decided to sell each with a free copy of my book. The clutches are $49; about 10" long, and divided into a small and big compartment inside that can fit a wallet, keys, lip gloss, and other similarly sized things. There's also an inscription inside that reads "For my kids in Ghana. [heart] Rachel Roy." If you're feeling the premise of OrphanAID Africa / admire Rachel Roy's work / need a cute spring/summer clutch / been meaning to pick up a copy of my book, you can satisfy all of the above on my website till the clutches run out.

8 Million Stories (Don't Worry, We're Just Telling Three)

I just got home from a friend's reading at Bar 82 where, apparently, every two weeks writers from all over the city read their work in the back room. I love that there are a million discoveries like this all over New York.

I tend to focus on the Ghana part of my story as a writer, but I was born in Plattsburgh, NY and have lived in Brooklyn, then Queens, then Brooklyn, then Queens again since I was two years old. When I wasn't in New York City (the three years I spent in High School in Ghana), I was in New York State (in college). So, needless to say, New York has had a huge influence on me as a person and a writer.

That said, every year around this time I'm usually plotting my escape from the island. I relish my annual holiday pilgrimage to Accra because it means time with my family, and a breather from the subway rat-sightings, cat calls, rush hour mob scene, and overpriced everything. (Of course, I spend much of that time lamenting all the things I miss about New York when I get there -- 24 hour access to reliable public transportation, any and every kind of food I want delivered, a plethora of museums, bums that hold the door for you at the ATM...)

But this December, I'm staying in New York and doing something I've been wanting to do since Powder Necklace first came out -- a reading and discussion at Hue-Man Bookstore with the poet Ben Hinson, and my sister scribe Ayesha Harruna Attah. We're all New Yorkers (for now anyway) by way of Nigeria and Ghana, respectively, with unexpected stories to tell. Come check us out, and let's trade "only in New York" stories together. City and State, Bridge and Tunnel, Ellis Island and Off the Boat New Yorkers welcome. Tourists too.

December 13, 2011
Hue-Man Bookstore
2319 Frederick Douglass Boulevard
between 124th & 125th Streets

Word. Up.

It has been a whirlwind few months! I've been writing Book #2, helping plan the annual Star 100 New York Fundraiser, working hard at Bluefly.com where we just launched a new blog Fly & Mighty, promoting Powder Necklace.

Back in September, the United Sisters Book Club welcomed me into their home. I had met the Book Club Secretary at "The Business of Books" event I did at the Akwaaba Mansion in March and she suggested it for her book club. (Thank you, Janice Stacy!) The evening was amazing. Not only did most of the women travel from far out Brooklyn to far out Queens to attend the event in one member's home, but they fed me too! (A huge thank you to Sandy Bright for opening her home to me!) They treated me to their special brew of Iced Tea, and a buffet of homemade food. We had a spirited discussion about the themes explored in Powder Necklace -- and how I could have made the book better! I so appreciated their candor and support. As a first time novelist, my goal is to improve sharply with each successive project. I hope you'll see that improvement with my second book!



The Iced Tea!



In October, I joined the "Beautiful Bibliophiles" of the Theta Chapter Book Club for an early dinner at a Brooklyn Applebee's. (Do not sleep on Applebee's spicy fettucini!) I had met one of the members at a Queens Book Fair in April and she suggested Powder Necklace to her group. (Akpe na, Ms. Cathleen Snyder!) We had a ball chatting about culture shock, the immigrant experience, and other topics that inspired the book. When dinner was done, we had a mini photoshoot on the Applebee's plaza as a gracious pedestrian we snagged on his way to/from work, patiently snapped us multiple times, with multiple cameras, iPhones, and Blackberrys. (Thanks, bruh--appreciate it!)




Later in the month, I had another shoot in my home with the brilliant photographer Layla Amatullah Barrayn. Laylah is The Business. Period. She came to my home in Queens to photograph me for her exhibition on women writers and we had a mini fashion geek fest as she let me play dress up in the vintage green-lens goggles and a velvet square brim tie hat I found at a vintage store in Martha's Vineyard! It was so much fun!

I can't wait to see which image she ultimately chose for the upcoming exhibition "Her Word as Witness." The portraits she took feature black women writers of all disciplines and stages in their careers, with a focus on capturing us how we wanted to represent ourselves. When she initially gave me the challenge to decide how I wanted to represent myself, I had my characteristic over-think. I wanted my Ghanaian-ness, love for quirky fashion, and commitment to words to show through. I did a few costume changes and tried to look serious behind my goggles (I admit that I "smized".) Again, I got put on to this opportunity via a friend's recommendation. (Thank you so much, Ngozi!)

Please come out to Brooklyn on December 1st for the exhibit's opening reception and check it out!

Skylight Gallery
3rd fl
1368 Fulton Street
Brooklyn, NY 11216
718-636-6949
www.restorationplaza.org

Perhaps we can go to Applebee's after.

Thank You, DC!

Love that Amazon shares with authors a city-by-city breakdown of where our books are selling! (I love that my publisher just started sharing sales data with authors too!) DC has consistently ranked in the top 3 cities buying my book, and this September in particular I saw a big bump from DC. Add that to the phenomenal reception I received from the Young African Professionals of DC , the good people who came out in droves to the Capital Bookfest in nearby Largo, MD , the loved ones who supported me at Georgetown's Presse Bookstore last year, and the recent MLK Memorial--I am officially renaming DC the District of Cheer.

Philly, LA, Idaho Falls, Colorado Springs, San Antonio, Chicago, Topeka, ATL, and New York: I see you too! (Wichita, where is the love?)

Auntie Flora Would Be Proud

Over the last few weeks, I covered several shows at New York Fashion Week for Bluefly.com where I work. I always have a bit of anxiety over what to wear as the weather for the spring shows is in that split personality phase where it's hot one moment and cold the next. I also know the street style photogs will be out and about; and after getting played on a "like it or hate it" sideshow last season, I wanted to make sure I got caught looking as good as I could. To do that, I broke out the buubuus (embroidered caftans) and ruffle print frocks my mom often has made for us in Ghana. (It's relatively cheap, by US/European standards at least, to get custom-made clothing in Ghana.) And I reprised the batakaris my Mom and I play-fight about, rocking them as mini dresses. The looks were big hits as Glamour, New York Magazine's The Cut blog, Essence, and Vogue Black snapped me and my sister. My mom was so proud -- as I know "Auntie Flora" in my book would be. In Powder Necklace, I wrote Lila's fashionista auntie to wear Azzedine Alaia as stylishly as she would an emerald buubuu made in a small tailor's shop in Nima because part of the way I express my pride in being African is through dress. My last show at NYFW was Arise "Made in Africa". Seven designers presented interesting interpretations of traditional African silhouettes and shapes reflective of o many influences. It's always an incredible feeling to see Africa represented on the runway.

The Writers Prayer

Anyone who knows me well, knows I love Beyonce. And JLo.



I relate to their 24 hour hustle because, as a kid, I watched both my parents work literally 20 hour days -- constantly -- toward their goals. (The immigrant hustle by necessity is a tireless one.) Instead of playing "house" when I was younger, I played "Restaurant" or "Modeling Agency" where I was always the owner of the company, taking calls and making decisions. And as an adult I thrive on multiple projects and hard work. Peak performance has been more important to me than sleep and sometimes my health; this philosophy encapsulated in a line of copy I wrote as a copywriter for a NikeWomen desktop wallpaper a few years ago: "Give the Performance of a Lifetime -- Every Time."



As I've gotten older, I've thought about what that line actually means and I realize that part of performing at your peak is conserving your energy -- long distance runner style -- i.e finding balance. So this summer, I sought my equiliibrium by taking a break of sorts from promoting Powder Necklace, and hit the beach when the weather permitted, hung with my friends, watched too many hours of reality TV, and just slept. A lot!



Of course, I shoehorned a lot of work in between. Outside of my day job, I've been contributing articles for JET Magazine and The Atlanta Post, and working on completing my second novel. I have over 500 pages that follow two complicated women from 1962 to present day in Ghana. It needs so much work, and cutting; I wish I could do it all tonight, but, alas, I must conserve my energy.



In the meantime, I wanted to share a poem with you that I started writing literally in a dream. The Saturday night/Sunday morning Hurricane Irene howled outside my window, I dreamt I was prepping to perform at an open mic and wrote the first line of the poem below. I call it "The Writers Prayer" because I pray that I never lose these inspired moments which I believe to be blessings straight from God.



The Writers Prayer



I stick a pen in my chest so I write from the heart

Splat dat on the screen before the editing part

Tap tap on the keys, till I find the right start

Most hours, most days, it's slower than BART



I stick a pen in my throat, s'why I'm not good at verbal

When I speak sometimes, s'like I swallowed the gerbil

That treadmills in my mind

I'm talking in circles

Get to the point.

"Madam, 50 cedis to Circle."



I stick a pen in my hand, it's a weapon of war

Slash, gash, bloodlet,

Apply tourniquet to sore

Then: "Father, may I do it some more?"

("Father, God, thank you.

May I do it some more?")



A pen's stuck in my brain, and it writes in my dreams:

"Wake up, bitch.

You need to tighten that scene.

Slash, gash; mop it up

Yup, wipe that shit clean."



It's a mighty pen, or should I say a laptop?

Fuck around, go ahead and make me miss my train stop.

The Murphy's of Flow: it only starts when I have to stop

Keep it real though

Sometimes it starts and I tell it stop

After my show, then I try to coax it back

Sometimes it comes,

Sometimes it won't call me back.



There's a pen in my eyes, and one in my ears

Both act as a filter to what I see & hear.



These chow pens, and sometimes I can't find one

Digging in my garbage bag till I have to ask for one

"Stranger, Crazy, Miss, can you spare one?"

Paper Mate, please, or a BIC or a Castell

If I must, though I hate,

I'll deal with a fountain

Whatever it takes to facilitate

Little nuggets of wise from the pen in my eyes

Labored pieces of art from the pen in my heart

Necessary surgery

by the scalpel in hand

and the pen in my brain

Serious op'ration

right there on the F train



Then the pen in my hoarse has to cooperate

Eloquent, smooth just like a candidate.

Stump, fly, sell, sell

Don't check your baggage

Damn, heavy as hell



Why do I bother?

S'not even a question.

There's a pen in my heart

hand, brain, and my throat.

If none of them wrote I'd find one that did

Laptop, blackberry, frosty window, kid



Since I was a child hiding at functions

Like Sam,

didn't know I had to answer the unction:

"Lord, Here I am."



Long before the agent "No"s began

Sister Barbara, Mr Hinksmon,

and of course Acquah English

I raise my "hend" not my "haand" to

Thad Z in Freshman English,

Mr. Gifford,

Obika,

Mr. Mamiya,

Moore and Villmoare,

Constance Berkley,

And Sidney.

Davison, Diann,

Mr. Longman...

Silhouette and Harlequin.



There are pens in my... you know

And now there's one on Facebook

Another twies to tweet things that'll make you take a second look



Wherever the pen

Product's subject to the Spirit

Can I--will I be a conduit?

Sans inSpiration

It's just not legitimate



So like Moses did with the staff in

his hand

I throw my pens down

(Whether Mac or PC, or plastic and ink)

And watch the magic begin.