Gwynne's Sanctum

The Impossible Took A Long Time

2009-01-10T22:39:00.001-05:00

It’s the Year 2009, and an African American man is about to become president of the United States of America. Maybe when I see Barrack Obama sitting behind that desk in the Oval Office, it will sink in. The Middle East is fire hot again; Economic conditions in the United States are the worst they’ve been in 80 years; we’re bogged down in two seemingly interminable wars; ordinary tax-paying citizens are underwriting the salaries and town houses of the filthy rich; and George Bush created this mess in only eight short years. If Obama doesn’t straighten it out within a few months, the press will crucify him; they have already begun, and he hasn’t even been sworn in.

An interviewer of a prestigious magazine phrased a question to me, beginning with this: “…the presidential election brought a sea of change of politics, business as usual and who knows what else in our culture.” I couldn’t let that one pass. I am proud of Mr. Obama and what he has accomplished, but I won’t allow anyone to tell me that there does not exist anywhere another African American capable of governing this country. I do submit, that Mr. Obama has many talents that, when combined, give him a uniqueness, and that he is the man for his time. But is he unique? I don’t know. We didn’t know there was such a man as he until he rose to the occasion, so there are probably others who can, and will, also seize a moment. I replied to the interviewer that Mr. Obama’s election did not bring about the change in political and social climate, but that it is a reflection of change that has taken place and that is continuing. He offers what the country needs, and the electorate recognized that fact.

But in spite of his considerable talents, Mr. Obama could have lost the election to his far less capable opponent if the electorate had feared intellectuals as it once did.. Adlai Stevenson (Also a distinguished Illinoisan intellectual and orator) lost to Eisenhower twice; Hubert Humphrey lost to Richard Nixon (a man who had already failed in several ways), And John F. Kennedy came within a few thousand votes of losing to Richard Nixon. Both Al Gore and John Kerr—superior by far in intellect and industry to George Bush—nonetheless lost a presidential election to him. Americans frequently cast aside the better candidate. NOT THIS TIME. President-elect Obama said that he stands on the shoulders of many African Americans who fought for change (a paraphrase), but in my view, for our children and our children’s children, no “shoulders” have been as broad, as strong or as powerful as those of Barrack Obama.

This Election Campaign Is Confusing

2008-09-19T09:47:00.001-05:00

Note; This came to me from a good friend who volunteers in the Obama campaign.
I'm a little confused.
Let me see if I have this straight.....
If you grow up in Hawaii , raised by your grandparents, you're 'exotic, different.' Grow up in Alaska eating mooseburgers: a quintessential American story.
If your name is Barack you're a radical, unpatriotic Muslim. Name your kids Willow , Trig, and Track: you're a maverick.
Graduate from Harvard law School and you are unstable. Attend 5 different small colleges before graduating: you're well grounded.
If you spend 3 years as a brilliant community organizer, become the first black President of the Harvard Law Review, create a voter registration drive that registers 150,000 new voters, spend 12 years as a Constitutional Law professor, spend 8 years as a State Senator representing a district with over 750,000 people, become chairman of the state Senate's Health and Human Services committee, spend 4 years in the United States Senate representing a state of 13 million people while sponsoring 131 bills and serving on the Foreign Affairs, Environment and Public Works and Veteran's Affairs committees, you don't have any real leadership experience. If your total resume is: local weather girl (sports caster), 4 years on the city council and 6 years as the mayor of a town with fewer than 7,000 people, 20 months as the governor of a state with 650,000 people, then you're qualified to become the country's second highest ranking executive.
If you have been married to the same woman for 19 years while raising 2 beautiful daughters, all within Protestant churches, you're not a real Christian. If you cheated on your first wife with a rich heiress, and left your disfigured wife and married the heiress the next month, you're a Christian.
If you teach responsible, age appropriate sex education, including the proper use of birth control, you are eroding the fiber of society. If, while governor, you staunchly advocate abstinence only, with no other option in sex education in your state's school system while your unwed teen daughter ends up pregnant, you're very responsible.
If your wife is a Harvard graduate lawyer who gave up a position in a prestigious law firm to work for the betterment of her inner city community, then gave that up to raise a family, your family's values don't represent America 's. If your husband is nicknamed 'First Dude', with at least one DUI conviction and no college education, who didn't register to vote until age 25 and once was a member of a group that advocated the secession of Alaska from the USA , your family is extremely admirable.
OK, much clearer now.

Bringing About The Change

2008-09-12T22:27:00.002-05:00

I want to show you some fantastic pictures. All I could think of as I looked at them was my sadness that my parents, my sister and my brother had not lived to see this awesome thing. No matter who you want for president, you have to admit that the United States has changed forever. And I'm proud of this change. Indeed, I thank God for this change. This man appeared at a time when we needed hope, belief in a brighter future for ourselves and for our children, and I am hoping and praying that he gets the chance to fulfill his promise. I'm also putting my money on him, and I've only done that once before--for a senator, never for a presidential candidate. Remember that wishing won't make it so. Do the right thing. Click here. http://www.dailykos.com/storyonly/2008/8/29/21040/3558/576/577074

Gwynne

HOW I BECAME A PARTNER IN HOPE

2008-08-24T14:00:00.002-05:00

Years ago, I became aware of the City of Hope created in Memphis, Tennessee by the late actor, Danny Thomas, to bring health to children. It was his dream that “no child should die in the dawn of life.” This noble undertaking developed into what became the St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital. St. Jude’s work first came to my attention through a Radio telethon. I made what I now consider a modest contribution, and have contributed haphazardly ever since, but if I had had first hand knowledge of the institution’s work, I would have been far more generous.
In a gesture of support for St. Jude, Harlequin Enterprises agreed to publish two novels that cast light on St. Jude’s activities. When the General Manager of Harlequin’s Kimani Press/Arabesque line asked if I would write one of the two books in a romance series (Novels Of Hope) that would reflect upon St. Jude’s work, I did not hesitate to accept. (Sandra Kitt is writing the other book.) St. Jude’s staff members feel that too few parents, particularly African-Americans, are aware of the care available to sick children without charge if there is no insurance. It was thought that, owing to the great popularity of romance novels, they would be a good venue through which to introduce to parents the loving and efficient care available at St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital.
Because of my own experience as mother of a desperately-ill child who--by God’s mercy and the care of specialists--recovered fully, I am totally empathetic with sick children and their parents, and I consider it an honor to be a Partner in Hope. The books are not about St. Jude. They are romance novels in which, by their actions, the characters inform the reader about this great institution and the care it gives.
On my first visit to St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital, I saw in its research department, dedicated doctors and scientists--including a Nobel Laureate,who strive to find cures and to develop effective treatments for childhood cancers, sickle cell disease and pediatric HIV/AIDS. But I must say that I was most deeply impressed by the loving attention that the staff gave to the children. These women and men could not have been more attentive, loving and caring with those children if they had been the children’s mothers and fathers. The areas where care is given is for the children: colorful and educational, and along the hallways, paintings and drawings of interest to children are at their eye level. Ceilings are bright star-filled skies. The sick children are not transported in wheel chairs but in wagons made like ducks, rabbits and so on. It seemed to me that the institution spares no effort to lighten the psychological effect of the illness upon the sick children and their parents. The environment discourages sadness, at least for me.
Imagine a place where a sick child can get the best help that is available without cost to its parents! That’s why I am a Partner in Hope, and I shall remain one long after this project ends.
Look for FOR ALL WE KNOW by Sandra Kitt, coming in September 2008 and for WHAT MATTERS MOST, by Gwynne Forster, to be released in October 2008.

To my dear deceased mother on Mothers Day

2008-05-08T21:07:00.006-05:00

To My Mother

(who taught me the meaning of love)

By
Gwynne Forster

I wonder what kind of woman I would be now if I had had a different mother. I thought about that this morning and thanked God for the one I had for most of my life. I say most of my life, because she was an inspiration even in her death.
I was born a middle child and, somehow, I expected less and got more. More, because even in my independent ways, I paid careful attention to what my mother did and said. Early on, I was impressed that what she did and what she said were totally congruous. She lived the life of a Christian and, from her, I received a legacy of faith, integrity and strong moral values. She believed in the work ethic, and taught us that a person who would not work would be capable of theft and dishonesty, that we should do to the best of our abilities whatever we agreed to do and for whatever we were paid. To her, theft meant more that snatching something and getting away with it; you stole if you accepted pay for something that you didn’t do or didn’t do well.
I’ve often said that I wish I was as nice a person as my mother. And that is true. Although a leader in her church and community, a teacher and school principal, this never seemed to impress her. She loved people and met some of her closest long-time friends at the bus stop and at the supermarket. Some of them hadn’t finished high school, but she said they didn’t have her opportunities and had done well with what they had.. In her late seventies, she took “the old folks” as she called them grocery shopping in her car every Wednesday morning. The neighborhood children loved her, and volunteered to run errands for her. Of course, she rewarded them with goodies that she loved to bake.
Her faith in people surpassed any that I’m likely to have. Well into her seventies, one evening in late autumn when darkness had already set in, Muz, as we called her, drove to the supermarket for something, parked in the parking lot and headed toward the entrance. A young man stopped her and said, “Lady give me those car keys.” She looked at the switch blade knife, then at him, threw her arms around him and said, “Son, don’t you have a mother?” The unfortunate young man, wrung himself out of her clutches and said, “Get away from me, Lady.” “But son,” she persisted, “What you’re doing isn’t right.” He ran. My siblings and I begged her never to do such a thing again, but she said. “He has a mother, and he obviously cares about her.”
If I have talent as a writer, I probably inherited it from my mother. She wrote the first fiction that I ever read. At age seven, I found a short story on her desk or some other place that now escapes me. The title, THE DREGS OF THE CUP, intrigued me, and I read it. I wasn’t sure how she’d react to my having done that, but she asked me what I thought of it, and when I said it was too short, she seemed very pleased. One day, I am going to write a novel suitable for that title.
Muz loved to laugh, and my fondest memories of her are of her laughing. I used to come up with all kinds of antics to make her laugh. It was a lovely, musical sound. I remember distinctly times when I told her one joke after another to keep her laughing. Mind you, the jokes were squeaky clean, or I cleaned them up before I told them. One Saturday when I was about seventeen or eighteen, I went with my church club on a picnic, pitched baseball for a few innings and, the following Monday, I was forced to go for therapy to improve my injured shoulder. In all truth, the very next Saturday, Muz went to the same place on a picnic with the choir to which she belonged, pitched nine innings of softball, won the game and never had one pain. Obviously, that made me the butt of family jokes.
I haven’t mentioned my father, because this is about my mother. But given the chance, I could say some wonderful things about him, including his exquisite singing voice, a little bit of which rubbed off on me.

Happy Mothers Day Every One.
Gwynne Forster

2008-05-08T21:07:00.003-05:00

2008-05-08T21:07:00.001-05:00

In The Scheme of Things

2008-01-13T22:24:00.000-05:00

IN THE SCHEME OF THINGS

(Politician or writer, your motto should be I Can)

“Ah, but a man’s reach should exceed his grasp, or what’s a Heaven for?” These are the words of the poet, Robert Browning, and they served as the motto for my college graduating class. I recall them now, because I heard a sermon this morning about the folly of “I can’t” or “I would, if...” Or “I’d like to, but..” My personality says “I won’t” when that seems reasonable, but it hardly ever says flat out, “I can’t” Last week I answered a series of questions for a journalist, and one had to do with my favorite saying. Without thinking, I wrote, “I can do that.”
“I can do that!” I think that’s why the little black girl born in a small North Carolina hamlet grew up to teach at universities, to become a senior demographer at United Nations in New York and to travel the world on behalf of the United Nations Secretary-General and the Secretary-General of the International Planned Parenthood Federation (London). It is also the reason why I am today the author of over thirty published fiction titles (all released by commercial publishing houses), when I am really only a trained demographer with a mind immersed in the principle that facts rule and the application of fiction is to be despised.
I taught myself to write novels and short stories because I wanted to write them, and disciplined myself to think creatively and not scientifically (when I’m writing fiction, that is), because I wanted to succeed. I also learned to receive and accept criticism that I knew was purely subjective with no basis in fact, and that half a dozen other ideas from half a dozen other people would have served just as well. You could say that I learned not to fall in move with my words. Not even with such questionable tidbits as, for example, “Twilight succumbed to the darkness that swallowed up the world around her.”
It has not been a rose strewn path, but I’ve managed, and I managed because I tried. I am sure that Senator Clinton and Senator Obama had heard all their lives that no woman and no black man would be president of the United States of America. Apparently, that never impressed them. She became the first woman senator from the state of New York, and he is the second African American senator from the state of Illinois, the sixth in the history of this 230 year old country.. They believe in who they are and that what they have to offer is worth our votes. They believe they have what it takes to be an effective president of the United States, and they are going for it!
Years ago, Senator Margaret Chase Smith of Maine was asked what she would do if she found herself in the white house (paraphrased). She replied, “I would apologize to the First Lady and leave at once.” A woman of her time, she didn’t envision herself as president or, perhaps, as deserving of it. But not so, Senators Obama and Clinton, because they are passengers on “the little engine that could.”
I believe that aspiring writers should pay attention to their examples. After all, they are offering themselves to the public just as we writers offer our work to the public. They prepared themselves well before starting on their campaigns and, while they have advisers and aides, they do their own talking and debating. They open themselves and their views to scrutiny. Don’t we writers do the same?
When aspiring writers tell me that they have a lot of burning ideas, but don’t have time to write, I say that it’s a matter of determination, commitment and belief in oneself. Armed with those traits, and with the required talent, a writer--whether seven years old or seventy--will write. In the scheme of things, one must believe in oneself; for if you don’t think you can change a light bulb, you will not attempt it. And if you do not attempt it, you definitely will not change it.

Gwynne Forster
13 January 2008

The Power of Suggestion

2007-12-15T22:10:00.000-05:00

Yesterday, my husband asked if I planned any additional travel this year. As an author, I travel regularly to perform different activities -book signing, lecturing, various promotions, and so on.
To his simple question, I replied, "There are only three weeks remaining in the year. Besides, I've been off practically every weekend since we returned from vacation." After reading that quote, you're saying duuuuuuuuuuh. He was gaping at me, too. I know. An explanation is required unless I want you to question my sanity. Well, here it is.
I'm a political junkey, and I have listened to the Republicans and Democrats who want to be president debate ad nauseam until I'm becoming like them. One seeker of this high office was asked whether it would be proper to have the secret service protect his mistress (as well as his wife, I presume), and he answered, suppose she's in danger, or something like that. For the 2004 election, one candidate was asked about his economic policy, and he replied, "I will fight for you." Minutes later, another reporter asked the same seeker of free meals in the White House about rescuing the social security system, and he gave his pat answer: "I will fight for you."
Now don't get me wrong; I'll be at the polls as soon as they open on election day. At least, that's what I've done in the past. But I keep asking myself why. One of the hopefuls is a little behind in the race to become party candidate, but when asked in a TV interview about his chances, he replied that the last two members of his party who became president talked like him. I laughed. If the answer served no other purpose, it definitely amused me.
Another seeker of a lifetime six-figure pension is clever and laughs in the friendliest way at every negative question that reporters put to him. Gets downright charismatic, too. Thank goodness, none of the other candidates seem so happy to have their integrity questioned and backed up with figures, like say, 30 million dollars. Whew! Asked if he was rich, one of those eager to entertain at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue in D. C. replied. "I'm well off." You call sleeping every night in your own 10,000,000 dollar house merely well off? That dude is stinking rich.
No wonder I gave my husband that double talk. I'm going to improve, though, because he doesn't deserve that. Oh, I don't know. Maybe he does. He's watched every one of those debates from start to finish, and if he didn't turn them on, I wouldn't watch so often. I'd get my writing done.
By the way, please plan now to support the Warm hands, Warm heart project in which one of my publishers, Harlequin is collaborating with St. Jude Children's Research Hospital to create greater awareness among African Americans about the services available to children there. No child in need of the care that St. Jude provides is turned away for lack of money. Sandra Kitt and I are each writing a novel to promote this knowledge among African Americans. The books are regular novels, and they are not about St. Jude, but in appropriate places we call attention to the workd done there and the care that it gives to children. My book, WHAT MATTERS MOST, will be out in October 2008.

Have a Glorious Christmas and a Blessed New Year.

Gwynne

The 2007 Essence Music Festival

2007-07-14T21:21:00.000-05:00

July Fourth Weekend At The Big Easy

Except when I was in my room at the Hilton Riverside I was surrounded by the sistahs and brothers from the time I boarded Jet Blue airlines in New York en route to New Orleans to the time I walked off Jet Blue flight 118 into the terminal at JFK airport Sunday afternoon. It was a good feeling. No, it was a great feeling.
The two hundred thousand African Americans who poured into New Orleans for the Essence Music Festival hiked up that floundering city’s economy by many millions of dollars. Remember that Louisiana is a racist state, although it is difficult to find evidence of that in the tourist sections of New Orleans. The welcome mat was out! Big time. And why not? Two out of every five sistahs, regardless of age, carried a symbol of money: a handbag engineered by Gucci, Chanel, Fendi, or Louis Vuiton; diamond rings, earrings and necklaces; expensive high-fashion shoes; Smart hair styles; and fashionable clothes (although, from the way things looked, there seemed to be a great shortage of material with which to make tanks and other tops; flesh was the order of the day). Seeing so many prosperous sistahs and brothers gave me a warm feeling. The invasion made Mayor Ray Nagin happy too; at least, that’s what he said.
I didn’t visit the Ninth Ward, mainly because there wasn’t time, but also because I dislike being miserable. Apart from that area, where African Americans concentrated and which sustained the damage we see on television, New Orleans looks as if Katrina never visited. Almost!! Careful scrutiny shows potholes in certain other streets, refuse that should be carted away, and so on, but not in the area most frequented by tourists, or in the areas of expensive and high-rise buildings.
Senators Clinton and Obama paid a visit to the Festival, and made serious overtures to the Festival attendees. Both were well received, and both had an important message.
I didn’t go to New Orleans for the music, but in response to an invitation to sign books at the author’s pavilion and because I think the food is still the best in the country. It was also an opportunity to visit with two dear friends.
In the Morial Convention Center, which sheltered thousands of hungry, sick and dying African Americans in the wake of Katrina, no evidence remained of that sorrowful time in American history. It was there at the author’s pavilion (and later for the African American Book Stop) that I signed copies of GETTING SOME OF HER OWN, my August 2007 release, and several others, including When You Dance With The Devil and Whatever It Takes.
At the author’s pavilion, operated by the Community Book Center, Lissa Woodson (aka Naleighna Kai) showed us how to promote up to half a dozen authors simultaneously and to do it fairly, not giving any one author preference, not even the super stars. And she did it hour after hour for three days with grand style. Lissa, you have my admiration and my sincere thanks.
I’ve often wondered why Essence combines books with music. I don’t have the answer, but I know it’s a wonderful, laudable idea, and the Community Book Center serves it admirably year after year. By the way, apparently many, if not most of the jazz musicians returned to the city, because that wonderful music could be heard everywhere, beginning with the moment I walked off the plane and into the terminal of Louis Armstrong Stadium. As I said, being in New Orleans was a great feeling, heat and humidity not withstanding.
Gwynne

The 2007 Essence Music Festival

2007-07-14T20:58:00.001-05:00

The Roux In The Gumbo; Kim Robinson, Guest

2007-06-29T16:13:00.000-05:00

I am really becoming a writing addict; it seems that if I don’t write everyday I just don’t feel good. I had been writing poetry and short stories all my life. It was my way of dealing with things that I did not feel good about; and growing up in Compton, there was a lot to write about.

I became obsessed with history when I was young, with the Watt’s riots, Black Panther movement, Martin Luther King and The Kennedys, I just couldn’t get enough. Then I discovered Harriet Tubman and Nat Turner. Boy they sure do teach a different kind of history in school. Then when I found out what had happened to the Indians; which my family has some Indian ancestory, I got really pissed.

When I discovered the Kyle Onstott “Falconhurst series,” I was in my early teens and read everything my father left in the bathroom. Then came ‘Gone with the Wind” and I gobbled up every historical thing I could get my hands on.

I really got into writing books in 1993 when my grandmother felt like her story would be better than Oprah’s because “I had more stuff happen to me,” as she put it. I learned so many amazing and heartbreaking things about my family in the years that we added memories to her life story.

I went to Louisiana, and every thing that she had told me seemed to come to life. I met so many people who had stories about my great grandmother and the woman who taught her to be a midwife and the man who taught her Voodoo/Hoodoo. I also met some modern day Voodooienes who taught me quite a few things to add to the remedies and sayings that my Grandmother had taught me. I didn’t want to know about the stuff to hurt people because what goes around comes around.

The books I read were nothing compared to the horror stories that I heard from ancestors of slaves in Louisiana. I also never heard of some of the slaves just saying they weren’t going to take it anymore and turning on their masters. Reconstruction was no better.

I encourage everyone to please take the time out to research your families as I have done in my book The Roux In The Gumbo

Kim Robinson

http://therouxinthegumbo.blogspot.com/
http://www.myspace.com/therouxinthegumbo
http://www.mardigraspublising.com/ http://www.kim-robinson.com/
http://www.jadorepublishing.com/ Kim@kim-robinson.com kimscrew@yahoogroups.com

Thoughts On This And That

2007-05-24T13:48:00.000-05:00

By the enchantment of Merlin, Gwyneth, daughter of King Arthur, slept five hundred years, woke up and went on as if she’d only slept eight hours (I guess), but she didn’t need to reacquaint herself with her environment, because, back then, not much changed in the course of a few centuries. It sure isn’t that way today. I’m still using the word, whore. A man called some women a hoe, and an acquaintance figured he was saying the women were sharp, because she thought a hoe was something with which you cut grass.
One of my neighbors tripped into church wearing a purple suit the skirt of which stopped about an inch above her knock-knees. Miss Lena was really proud of that suit. “It pays to buy quality,” she bragged. “I’ve had it for at least thirty years, and it’s still in style. True, the suit was clearly the work of a very good designer, and yes, the garment was still stylish. The problem lay in the fact that, while time stood still for the Dior suit, it had galloped like hell for the seventy-year-old Lena.
Time changes a lot of things, and usually when we aren’t paying attention. I tell myself to start making every minute of my life count for something. But how can I? I was never one to ignore a serendipitous event, happening or moment, for those are the occasions that give life special meaning, that make it wonderful. But if, on the other hand, I live strictly by my weekly appointment book, plan my day hour by hour and never depart from it, at least not voluntarily, I would probably become so insufferably dull that I couldn’t stand my own company.
A comedian on The Comedy Hour has his audience in stitches with the expression, Get ‘er done, which I believe he coined. I think the audience finds the expression funny because they’re a bunch of procrastinators. And why not? Wouldn’t we all postpone manual labor, the dentist and death? Usually, time won’t allow it, because doing the laundry can’t be avoided; pain will eventually send us to the dentist, and…well, you know the rest.
Five years ago Arabesque Books flourished as the foremost line of African American Romances. Seeing an opportunity to make a bundle, Harlequin bought Arabesque from Viacom (which had purchased BET Books from Robert Johnson). Today, the Arabesque line is practically dead. Who would have dreamed it? Time can be vicious in its march.
On January 2, 1994 when I wrote the first line on my first novel, it didn’t imagine, didn’t even wish that in May 2007, thirteen years later, I would have thirty-three published fiction titles to my credit, and all of them released by commercial publishing houses. But in the meantime, I practically forgot how to play the piano, no longer know how to thread my sewing machine, and am years behind in the books I want to read. Moreover, I have hundreds of long playing records that I want to record on CDs, and I have the necessary equipment—thanks to my husband--but when will I do it? Time is not waiting, and each day there is less of it left.
If we slept for twenty years – as Washington Irving wrote of Rip van Winkle--not to mention five hundred as was the case with Gwyneth, we would have to adjust to a new world of technology, fashion, manners and conventions. The Blackberry would be démodé, some other fuel would replace gas in cars; children would be growing at the same rate as growth-hormone-inoculated calves; about a fifth of the damage New Orleans sustained during hurricane Katrina would have been repaired, and the president of the United States would be doing what he is supposed to do, preside.
If you slept for five hundred years, the cure of some terrifying diseases would have been found, and victims of Alzheimer’s, multiple sclerosis, cancer, coronary disease, kidney disease, diabetes and a lot of others would only have to take a pill to be disease free. Moreover, there would be health care for every person in this rich country. And, last but not least, if you were looking for some of your old buddies and couldn’t find them, you’d have to check out the moon, but you’d need a street map.
On the sad side, as I would have been long departed, all of my books would be out of print, even my current title, WHEN YOU DANCE WITH THE DEVIL. But if it’s true that, once in cyber space, always in cyber space, then you’d find at least descriptions of my books at http://www.gwynneforster.com.

Gwynne Forster

Making Waves

2007-04-29T21:42:00.000-05:00

I just left the Romantic Times Convention, where I suppose I saw about two thousand white female readers and published authors, and sizeable number of males(including the Mr. Romance contestants--biceps on display) and perhaps fifty African American sistahs, maybe a few more. On the Saturday, several hundred published authors sat in alphabetical order at long tables signing their books. Along with every one else, the sistahs came through, visiting with authors and buying their books. It amazed me the number of black women won spent so much time talking with white authors and buying their books and ignoring black authors. I signed my share of books for both black and white women, but I've been published for twelve years and have over thrity fiction titles to my credit. It pained me to see some good writers sitting with a stack of books in front of them while a sistah bought a book from the white writer on either side of her. It blew my mind.

Of course, I believe in freedom of just about everything that's legal, and people have a right to spend their money as they please. I do. Still, I've seen that behavior every time I participate in that kind of book fair. Maybe it wouldn't bother me if the white readers didn't treat most black writers as if they were a part of the decoration. I confess I hadn't attended that particular annual convention in eight years and that I went only to receive an award for career achievement.

I read books without regard to the color or gender of the writer ( I buy selectively), althought my prejudices won't let me buy a book written by a reactionary Republican. O. K., the title of this piece is "Making Waves," so what did you expect? Gwynne Forster

The State of Things

2006-12-31T21:51:00.000-05:00

I hate capiitol punishment, because I can't see what purpose it serves. Granted that it costs society a lot to house, protect, guard and feed a criminal for twenty to fifty or more years, but the criminal has to die anyway, and a quick--sometimess painless--execution may be an easier way to go than if he suffered from, say, lung cancer or muscular dystrophy for years.
I'm thinking about this now, because the butcher of Bhagdad has just received government assistance in departing this life. Maybe he suffered for five minutes, and perhaps he was scared to death when he saw that noose. So what? Think of the thousands he murdered or caused to be murdered and the fear he put into millions more. Is Five minutes of suffering sufficient payment for that? If anyone who reads this can come up with a more fitting punishment, please let us know what it is. I've thought about dog food, naked in barbed wire enclosed , outdoor quarters and such, but why punish others by forcing them to look at him. Oh, well. Have your say.
On January First, Congress will be led by Democrats. However, this change seems to have escaped the president, who is hell bent on ignoring the fact that a majority of us want the young women and men in the armed forces of this country to have a sporting chance at dying in bed at a great age, instead of being blown to pieces in somebody else's country before they reach age thirty. Mr Bush, please take heed.
I had a banner 2006. Harlequin/Kimani Press published two of my books (romances), Her Secret Life, and McNeil's Match. Kensingto publishing/Dafina Books published a mainstream novel, WHEN YOU DANCE WITH THE DEVIL, and a mainstream novella, "The Journey," in DESTINY's DAUGHTERS by Gwynne Forster, Donna Hill and Parry "Ebony Satin" Brown. I hope you had a chance to read them. Genesis Press reissued under new covers AGAINST THE WIND and NAKED SOUL, romances first published in 1998 and 1999. Unfortunately, the reissues contain innumerable printing errors that did not occur in the first edition. I had no role in this, but I apologize to all who got a copy with the errors.
I wish all of you a blessed, prosperous New Year.
Gwynne Forster

The State of Things

2006-12-31T16:15:00.000-05:00

I'm thinking about this now, because the butcher of Bhagdad has just received government assistance in departing this life. Maybe he suffered for five minutes, and perhaps he was scared to death when he saw that noose. So what? Think of the thousands he murdered or caused to be murdered and the fear he put into millions more. Is Five minutes of suffering sufficient payment for that? If anyone who reads this can come up with a more fitting punishment, please let us know what it is. I've thought about dog food, naked in barbed wire enclosed , outdoor quarters and such, but why punish others by forcing them to look at him. Oh, well. Have your say.

On January First, Congress will be led by Democrats. However, this change seems to have escaped the president, who is hell bent on ignoring the fact that a majority of us want the young women and men in the armed forces of this country to have a sporting chance at dying in bed at a great age, instead of being blown to pieces in somebody else's country before they reach age thirty. Mr Bush, please take heed.

I had a banner 2006. Harlequin/Kimani Press published two of my books (romances), Her Secret Life, and McNeil's Match. Kensingto publishing/Dafina Books published a mainstream novel, WHEN YOU DANCE WITH THE DEVIL, and a mainstream novella, "The Journey," in DESTINY's DAUGHTERS by Gwynne Forster, Donna Hill and Parry "Ebony Satin" Brown. I hope you had a chance to read them. Genesis Press reissued under new covers AGAINST THE WIND and NAKED SOUL, romances first published in 1998 and 1999. Unfortunately, the reissues contain innumerable printing errors that did not occur in the first edition. I had no role in this, but I apologize to all who got a copy with the errors.

I wish all of you a blessed, prosperous New Year.

Whatever It Takes

2005-09-27T17:40:00.000-05:00

Some people will do anything to get what they want. And what they want is usually money. Yes, money motivates most of us in one way or another. I write novels for it, take on more obligations than I should...for it, and work until the computer screen pains my eyes...for it. But you know something? A dreaded hurricane or tornado zips along and wipes it all out in hours or minutes. What I'm getting at is this: money is good, and let's get all we can ...honestly and with integrity, but let us remember those who worked hard for it, had it all and then lost it all within hours, when the levees fell victim to the ravages of nature, when 175 mile an hour winds splintered homes and businesses. Let's clean out our closets for these people, but better and more importantly, let's take some of that precious money and send it to individuals we know who don't have shelter or to bona fide organizations helping these people.

If we don't have money to spare, let us roll up our sleeves and join the HABITAT FOR HUMANITY group nearest us, grab a hammer and some nails and build houses for the people who lost their homes. Do you know someone whose bookstore was destroyed? Send some unused books, if you're an author, to help them get back in business. We do whatever it takes for ourselves, so let us do WHATEVER IT TAKES to help heal the lives of those victimized by Katrina and Rita. And don't forget, there will still be victims years and years from now, for most are African Americans, and you know how things in this country work for us.

If each of us gives a little, they will recieve a lot, and we all will be richly blessed.
Gwynne

WHATEVER IT TAKES, Kensington Publishing Corp, August 1005

High Risk Behavior

2005-07-24T20:40:00.000-05:00

A man who is a member of a reader/writer internet group to which I subscribe has taken the position that, thanks to revelations in JL King's book, ON THE DOWNLOW, African American women believe that black men in this country swing both ways. There may be a few who do believe this, because one of my acquaintances said to me (in the presence of two other women), "All of them do it; your husband, too." This shocked me, because she has never seen my husband, never spoken with him and doesn't even know his first name. Moreover, I have never told her anything about him. I chose to ignore the remark. However, that is not the issue here. I would like to know the views of as many women as possible as to what they believe is the prevalence of this two-timing habit that puts women's lives at serious risk of HIV/AIDS, whether they have had any experience with men who cheat in this way and how it affected them, if at all. Gwynne

Some Like It Hot

2005-07-03T21:50:00.000-05:00

Last weekend, I attended the Essence Music Festival in New Orleans and signed books at the authors pavilion. Thanks to continuously inclement weather, the temperature was more "tame" than I had expected, and I was grateful. The local papers and television stations estimated that 250,000 people, mainly African Americans, attended the festival. While observing these prosperous and joyful Americans, it occurred to me that what we need is a movement not unlike the civil rights movement of the 1960s. Without wanting to start a controversy-and praying that I don't- I submit that we need a nation-wide health campaign to warn African Americans of the relationships between diet and weight, and strokes, high blood pressure, diabetes, kidney disease and heart disease. As one whose work has for years involved the study of the epidemiology of morbidity and mortality, I have to say that I am alarmed about our health prospects.
What does this have to do with the festival? That is where I saw thousands of African Americans strolling leisurely along the streets, most I would suggest below the age of forty-five, and nearly three-quarters of them candidates for the ailments listed above. I love cornbread and barbecued spareribs as well as the next person, but knowing my mother's family history, I ration myself, and if I gain five pounds, I get rid of it. So let us do what we can to guide young black Americans toward the path of good health. We are not the only ones who need this change-America needs it, but we are the ones about whom I am concerned.

Let me know your reaction. Is there anything you and I can do?
Gwynne

Eating my cake

2005-06-12T21:27:00.000-05:00

In September, I will celebrate ten years as a published fiction writer. It never occurred to me in January 1994 when I wrote the first line of SEALED WITH A KISS that I would be the author of 3o fiction titles by September 2005. It boggles my mind. I guess I've been working hard, because in the meantime, I've been writing very serious stuff for such organizationsas the World Bank, the United Nations Population Fund, The United Nations Population Division, TheWorld Fertility Survey, various developing countries and foundations engaged in population activities.

And before I began writing fiction, I worked full time as a demographer. But fiction writing gives me a real bang. Sometimes, my imagination runs amuck, and I have to reel it in, but most of the time I'm as happy writing as a little pig in hog heaven. So if you've always wanted to write, get a piece of paper and pen or pencil, or a typwriter(what's that?) or a computer and write. Perhaps I'll meet you at a writer's or reader's conference. This is the life.

If one of my fellow writers disagrees, let me know.
Gwynne