I finally get Taylor Swift

I work in a shop and when I began I noticed the music and it was what we now call “classic” which is just music from my childhood.  But some music, the new stuff, I have come to recognize as the kids that win awards now, like Taylor Swift. It’s corporate music. It’s the same music you hear in every store you shop, restaurant you eat, and commercial you watch. I get it now. That’s how they have so much money.

People don’t listen t the radio (as such) anymore so the marketers have curated the most innocuous muzak that has that clicky autotuned thing pop songs have now.

I feel so “duh” about it. But it has made me listen to the words to the songs more and that Taylor Swift…gets around.

PS: There’s a muzak version of It Ain’t No Fun, If The Homies Can’t Have None. It’s if the homies can’t have fun, which is also true…not the spirit of the song.

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I don’t like selfies.

Highlights of our Masterclass with Isaac Densu, Commissioning Editor, All 4 Shorts

I wrote this for The TVCollective @ http://www.thetvcollective.org/2015/09/14/highlights-of-our-masterclass-with-isaac-densu-commissioning-editor-all-4-shorts/.  Simone Pennant is doing the good work.

Snippet of recent MasterClass with Isaac Densu on Monetising your Online content.

Isaac Densu commissioner from Channel 4’s All4Shorts recently joined us for a #TVCMasterclass taking us on a whistle stop tour of all things online.

Isaac spoke extensively about his role at Channel 4 and the projects he has been involved with.  Rich Kids go Shopping being one of the most popular shorts series not only because it hit the 16-25 year old demographic, but also chimed with the brand of the station and it’s thumbnail a instant audience grabber.

MasterClass Highlights:

Nine things to consider when pitching to Isaac or anyone at the AllShorts at Channel 4:

  • Know their audience. Do your research on the channel’s brand.
  • Don’t waste time writing a wordy pitch document – keep is short, sweet and straight to the point.
  • Send an email with the title, a simple overview, contributors, thumbnails, a taster tape (optional) as well as samples of your previous work.
  • Make it an espresso shot – Again short, sweet and straight to the point.
  • Make sure your pitch and idea is as complete as possible.
  • Stick the spoiler at the top, then justify/reveal.
  • Make your short between 3-7 minutes long, unless there’s a big reveal. Don’t over complicate it.
  • They’re looking for new ways to tell stories: factual, documentary, tech films.
  • Niche subject matter with broad appeal. Think, who’s going to share this and why.

Shorts Tariff: £3k per airing, £18k for the series.

Want to avoid broadcasters and go it alone? Isaac top tips for monetising your content:

  • Key – build partner you can collaborate and consolidate with.
    More views, more money.
    Platforms already consolidated tend to be  more profitable.

“If creative professionals were to get together bringing with them their fans and followers to one central location, think of the potential audience they would have”. 

  • Share your audiences with each other.
    As Producers, rely and support your peers.
    Work with established YouTube partner who have followers if you already have content.

“Imagine walking into an advertising agency telling them you have 400 hours of premium content and to find advertising to fit around it”.

  • Build a website with other independent Producers and Directors.
  • Lastly generate generate a buzz around your content.
  • And never underestimate the power of the thumbnail.

Making Time for Writing: Walking Towards the Fear

It takes everything in me some days to sit down and write. We’ve all read it all before about successful writer’s habits, advice, routines, trying to glean some comfort in seeing that somebody went to bed really early or slept really late or drank 1000 cups of coffee in four hours before they, I don’t know, threw up all over their work and did it all again later.

But the thing that still grips me is the fear. The fear of exposure because as Nikita Lalwani blogged, all great stories are based in truth. It’s the exposures to me that draw me in. Seeing the weakness in characters allows me to be kinder with myself because that connection and tenderness is what allows me to be both tender and brutal with my characters.

But allowing myself to be myself in my writing is really the hardest thing. My self-censor has re-risen since moving to the UK from The States. Everything is double checked for tone, a lack of cultural similarities that makes jokes fall flat. Entendre has no mirror.

It takes everything in me some days to sit down and write. We’ve all read it all before about successful writer’s habits, advice, routines, trying to glean some comfort in seeing that somebody went to bed really early or slept really late or drank 1000 cups of coffee in four hours before they, I don’t know, threw up all over their work and did it all again later.

But the thing that still grips me is the fear. The fear of exposure because as Nikita Lalwani blogged, all great stories are based in truth. It’s the exposures to me that draw me in. Seeing the weakness in characters allows me to be kinder with myself because that connection and tenderness is what allows me to be both tender and brutal with my characters.

But allowing myself to be myself in my writing is really the hardest thing. My self-censor has re-risen since moving to the UK from The States. Everything is double checked for tone, a lack of cultural similarities that makes jokes fall flat. Entendre has no mirror.

One thing the fear keeps me from is joining a writer’s workshop. Hell, showing my work to anyone in general, except my trusted few, ties me in knots and makes my writing sound like a robot wrote it. There’s that fear of exposing that I’m scared.

But when I’m tender with myself. Really let me say what I want, how I want to…it flows so beautifully. I can close my eyes and see the words, the space, the person, feel the mood.

I want us all to walk towards that fear. That discomfort leads to a joy.  Those of us who are writers, in the ‘cause I gotta’ category, we gotta do it. But I think that we all need some sort of support.

If you want to move past the fear, this website is the place to begin moving past your fear and grabbing hold to your passions. Share your stories with me, anonymously if you must. But share with me.

8.4.05 Belize

I just found this. I think it was on my first blog too.  Wow. It’s an interesting look back. This was written a decade ago. I was on my first vacation abroad alone in Belize. To see that woman through the eyes of the woman I am today. Married Expat still fighting the same fears, but in different incarnations. With both evolved and devolved aspirations.

 

I’m trying to get out and do things.  Just like at home I’m gripped by fear before leaving the room.  So I’m forcing myself to go snorkeling with a group today.  Tomorrow I’ll go to the jungle and the ruins.  Tonight I’ll figure out a way to make into town and go to the festivities for Miss Central America.   My fear response is to get sleepy right now.  

 

I really want to be on this vacation with somebody.  Of course it’s romantic, but just to be with someone who knows me.

No, it is romantic and I do want to be with a man I care about here.  That’s not unreasonable.  I got an email from a friend who always plays the “when we’re in…” game with and boy did that make me sad.  Sure I love him (all friendly like.  Well that’s not altogether true.   I know he’s wrong for me and not that into me and has never had a relationship past 2 months and I don’t’ want to risk our friendship for me to be the first one and he hasn’t approached me with the proposition which I would of course take in a heartbeat.)

This is going to be the time of all of these hypocrisies and idiosyncrasies.  Maybe 31 should be my year of the hypocrite.  In order to conquer fear I do the exact opposite of what I know to be right.  I trust my instincts on physical danger and emotional harm, but fuck it.   I live such a safe right life.  I want more adventure in my life and the only way to go about getting it is to go out and get into more trouble.  I almost censored that out.  I don’t know if I would call it trouble, but my life is so calm.  Nothing changes if I don’t change my behavior.   I wish one of these vitamins was to give me the courage to just do anything I felt like doing.  I am going into town tonight.  I’ll just arrange it.  I have the money. Or at least I will when by the time I get this going.  I have the best people around me.  I am so blessed.  Who’d have thunk that I’d be so lucky?  I have a great life .

 

But again it begs the question why don’t I have a man to share it with.

Insecurity.  Not feeling perfect.  Thinking I have to be in order to get the man I want.  Daydreaming about men I don’t know and thinking I have to do all of these tasks to be worthy of the company of a rich, smart, beautiful man…who could be a real asshole.  

 

What do I want to write that would sell?  What could I write?

 

If I turn this trip into a type of travel log how would I go about it?  

For me though, outline the romance.

Laying on the chaise rubbing oil onto my own back I longed for a touch that wasn’t my own.  I’ve grown weary of my own touch.  I long for the meaning behind casual caresses.  The conversation behind it.  I long for the silences.  To be able to communicate entire paragraphs in the silence of a touch.  Lifetimes.  Safety.  Empires.  In one touch.  It must be a beautiful gift.  In my fantasy life I meet this man that can’t take his eyes off of me.  He approaches me with something off beat and witty.  I counter equally as witty and maybe a little farther offbeat.  We start talking and can’t stop.  [I’ve recently come to realize that I don’t know what to do to flirt with a man.  I mean someone I don’t just want to take home.  How to entice a man into wanting to get to know me better.  I’m so busy doing my own thing, (and my mistype of doing my own think was accurate as well) that I may have dropped too many of the things that make a woman a woman too early.  I don’t have the power and success (in capitalist terms) to make my hardness warranted.  I’d love to be all soft and gooey, but I’m not soft and gooey for  myself.  I’m practicing,- no. no but.  As with anything I have to practice.  I’m practicing writing.  I’m practicing being a writer (whatever that means).  I’m beginning the practice of being a paid writer.  That hits my core self esteem issues.  That is the core worth issue.  What if I’m no good.  I’ve said I want to write.  I call myself a writer.  The only treatise I’ve written is that thesis.  

 

Well time to go snorkeling.

 

More later.

Prince Died

Prince

Prince died. I don’t even know what that means. I walked in the door and Ben was there, hugged me and I started weeping.

 

Prince is wrapped up in my burgeoning sexuality, concepts of love and romance, friendship, commitment, weirdness, boldness, confidence, blackness, integrity…plus a lot of stuff I don’t even know. Mommy started buying his albums in 1978 and I have no memory of musical life without him.

 

All of my friends growing up were Prince fiends. I always said that if I ever met him I’d shake his fingertips, then my uterus would fall out, then I’d die, then he’d touch me and I’d be resurrected. When I got older, Carl and I would use Prince lyrics as writing exercises. I have some stories based on The Ballad of Dorothy Parker, Forever in my Life, and If I Was Your Girlfriend. I wrote poems based on When 2 R N Love, a lot of poems in my teens to that as a matter of fact.

 

A lot of my childhood icons have died in a matter of months. I’d started writing about Vanity earlier, but got sidetracked by a barrage of celebrity deaths that I just muddled through. Vanity and Prince. My youthful loves.

 

When I’m about to do something scary and take a risk, I listen to Baby I’m A Star. Always will it’s my #1 theme song. I listened to it on my wedding day, every time I stepped on stage to tell a story it was my walking in strut music. Bad day: Baby I’m A Star. Good day: Baby I’m A Star. Indifference: Baby I’m A Star.

 

Money Don’t Matter 2nite. Got me through 2008-11.  I was singing it to Ben last week.

 

Me and my relationship with clothes and brocade fabrics bitches.

But it’s also about us facing our own mortality.

Demigod- it would be like if we were in ancient Greece and someone was like, oh, Apollo fell out of the sky today, or Dionysus died.  Died?!! Get the fuck out of here.

 

Latchkey kids were raised by Prince. He’s the nasty talking uncle you want, but you never saw that side of him, he was always sweet with you. Our parents were working but they were just meeting him too. But as adults who knew what he was talking about. But he taught me the word masturbate. I was 12. That learnt me quick. I don’t know if this hit gen x more or not…i don’t know. I know my mom is a mess. She’s the one who started all of this.  She was in her 20’s still when she met him. But we’re from chicago and come from a funk soul tradition. He’d opened for Rick James, so that’s the space

 

In mourning. I have a friend who recently lost her father, that’s real talk, but she reached out to me in my time of grief.

 

Prince is still dead. It still sucks balls generational gap filler. I’m 13 years older than my little sister. She was upset too, crying upset, and she’s pretty practical about this kind of stuff.

 

She doesn’t know a life w/o VCR’s, microwaves, remote controls.

 

8:28p on EasyJet- I don’t have too many more of these in me.

 

Arms of Orion in an airplane with dead Prince.

 

Growing up my best friend Dana and I would ask what our favorite love songs were. Hers was Stevies’ Always, fine choice, but mine was Adore.

He helped shape my concept of love and romance as well as sex.

 

I developed a strange romantic worldview. Because I listen to words. And his words gave me a view of men that were confident, vulnerable, sexy, sexual, thoughtful, sweet, smart, funny, cunning, witty, poetic, talented.

 

And the thing is the boys my age were like that then. Because the listened to him too. Black radio loved him, at least in Chicago they did. He created the space for them to have more dimensions to their masculinity.

 

I remember waiting with a tape to try to get Erotic City recorded from WGCI when morning radio host Bob Wall was suspended for playing the whole thing.

 

Then as a teenager, he did the Batman soundtrack. The first one. w/ the Scandalous Sex Suite, him and Kim Basinger!! Whoa! (And then the rumour that she bought him a town in like South Dakota or something…ask the innerwebs…) By then I was fully ready to have sex and now that I had the soundtrack…almost all Prince sung and the ones I received as flowers.

 

Did I lose my virginity to Prince? Probs. I remember the boy and the music a lot of moany, gravely, breathy business.

 

In college, I broke up with my 1st & only college boyfriend at the same time I got my first CD player. First CD I bought was The Box Set. I hadn’t heard some of those songs since my mom had boxed up her records.

 

I’d taken 2 actual albums 2 college (cause I started with my double cassette player with a record player that I’d gotten for my 16th BD and was already obsolete I digress).

The roots soundtrack & Vanity 6 (I can’t even on Vanity, though in brief, she was jolt to the kind of woman I was supposed to become vs. the kind I wanted to be.)

 

[Nothing Compares 2 U {full disclosure, so was Bitch Ass Nigga-Onyx} my friends wold pass notes with the lyrics to Pink Cashmere on them. We were all obsessed. And had come from all over the country as Black kids to The Mecca and found each other.

 

Prince, Howard…sex, love, unity, pride, 17 Days, Pink Cashmere, Erotic City on CD!!! Diamonds & Pearls, STROLLIN’! I LOVE STROLLIN’!!! Strollin’ just made me tear up on a flight to Spain.

 

So here I am today, living in England & hear the terrible news. I guess I haven’t been quite right since. It was too much public. As public as I am about him, I needed a minute. It’s taken me days to write this when it should take me weeks. I need the amount of time it takes for Jet to come out at least. The space.

 

I am Violet the Organ Grinder, will die but I won’t go away.

 

Here’s a church, here’s a steeple, here’s a muthafucka that I’ve got to blow away.

Here’s my chance to cure the ills of the people, but not until I make this muthafucka pay. Oooh baby, I count the days.

 

Great day in the morning, my choir sings a pretty song.

Everyday I’m wit yo ass is another day wasted I swear is a day 2 long.

 

Countin’- like Frankie Beverley w/o Maze, I’m countin’ muthafucka I count the days.

 

That got me through tough freelance jobs.

 

When I was a kid, my mom got drunk. Drank too much at a wedding on the Northside and was driving us home south. She was throwing up out of the car at stop lights then flew down Lake Shore Drive. There’s a curve that if you take too fast you’re a goner, I didn’t know it then but do now, and it’s terrifying to think she did that. As we got closer to home Let’s Go Crazy came on the radio and I blasted it along with the air conditioner (it was summer). The song stayed on until we pulled in front of our apt building. I rarely remember that. I think I wrote a story about it as well, then put it out of my mind. I knew she loved the song so we sang loud and stayed alive. The next day she had no recollection of what had happened. First blackout. A year later she was in rehab. Thank God for Prince, she said.

 

My mom said it felt like a member of the family died. Gutted was the word she used and in 40 years, I’ve never heard her use that word, and both of her parents are dead. But I guess that’s what all of this is about. There’s not a significant event in my life be it grief or joy that he wasn’t there with me in song & spirit.

 

 

 

Nina, girl, I know

I’ve been mad since 2012 when it was announced that Zoe Saldana was playing you and I saw the pictures of ‘you’ in blackface. Oh miss Nina, I’m so sorry they did that to you.

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Those of us who know, who you taught through your life and your music are heartbroken.  I have no real opinion of Zoe Saldana, you know how there’s always gong to be someone who doesn’t know. Someone not invested in your community. Not interested in how your art and activism for Black people, who you so loved, was integral to your being. Someone who’s never been called ugly because they were Black or had any barriers placed before them because of how they looked.  It wasn’t her story to tell, she should have said no, but she’ll learn…if she’s interested. She’s in a really terrible situation and Hollywood is on some real bullshit right now. The days of reckoning you talked about are upon us.  The frequent quote about her is that she “gave her heart and soul” to the performance to which I say, so what? She should have said no. She’s not the artist for this. She hasn’t seen enough, but then again, I don’t know that girl.

But let’s deal with the thing that I love most. Context.

They took you out of context and for that I’m sorry

& they don’t know about Mississippi at all anymore.  Goddamn indeed.