N9nth Degree

Yup it surely has been a while. So here I am dusting off the cyber cobwebs up in this piece. Since November last year, I've had a show on BlogTalkRadio by the name of Nubian Scribes, where I'd basically chat for an hour or so on a range of topics, from sex to publishing. It was tedious and nerve-wracking at first and I was unsure if anyone but family I harassed into being my audience was listening. All the same, I stuck at it for a while on the premise that if nothing else, it was good practice my impromptu speaking that I felt could be improved upon for the sake of my desire to be a motivational speaker. There were times that I hosted the show whilst in pain, others that I simply couldn't do it at all. In time I did generate a stream of regular listeners and it was fun, though very taxing (you'd be surprised just how much talking for one hour straight can take out of you!). I wish I could say I maintained consistency with it, but to be honest, I found it very exhausting, especially as I was in the process of completing my second and third novels at the same time.

Who knew that my time as a self-proclaimed radio show host would bring me in perfect alignment with being presented with the opportunity to do it for real on a proper radio station? Well 11 months later, that's exactly what I am doing. I now host my own 2hr show on BrentYouthRadio.com every Wednesday at 12-2pm under the alias of N9nth Degree. At the time I had only planned to stay for a few weeks, despite having been invited to become a permanent fixture, but what can I say? I'm loving the calling! I'm now spending most of my evenings editing music and developing playlists for my next show. I can't even remember the last time I wrote, but worry not, now that I'm really getting a hang of things, I'm getting back on the ball with the novels ;).

'HYPKNOWLOGY'

Hypknowlogy [hip-nol-uh-jee]

• 
  
  adjective

1. 
   
   The passive delivery of seemingly complicated theories and issues in a way that is subtle enough to appeal to the higher self, whilst disarming the egocentric nature of the lower. 
   
2. The subtle infusion of knowledge and facts through a manner that does not directly infringe on the autonomy of the recipient.
3. 
   
   The agreeable subliminal expanding of awareness, that causes one to question and seek the answers to one's own equation.

Hypknowlogy is the title of the compilation of my first trilogy: 'The Mouth of Babes', 'Let Sleeping Gods Lie' and 'Heaven's War: The Gods Awakened'. The idea to put it together in one volume came from my usual teachers, books I've read and readers I have spoken to. I discovered Octavia E. Butler late in life and didn't read any of her books until a year or so after having completed my first novel. I was recommended to her books in the Patternist series by a friend who advised that I would love her writing and that there seemed to be similarities in our stories. The thing is, at the time I started searching for her books, they were not as readily available in the UK. I think there has been a bit of a revival now, because I can find her titles on Amazon.co.uk, back then, they were only listed on the US site.

I finally came across a couple of her books in the library, newly ordered in. 'Kindred' and 'Wild Seed' I believe. The latter was a compilation of the Patternist series all bound in one book and that alone blew my mind! Two years later I had people telling me, 'I wish I could read all your books back to back', 'I'm going to ask my son/daughter/mother/father to buy me your books for xmas'. At the time of hearing the first comment, I was still in the process of editing my final book, so I didn't think much on it. However when I heard the second comment, I thought about xmas sales and the potential that comes with it. What would be more likely? Someone purchasing one book as a gift, or three separate ones? Then of course, I remembered 'Wild Seed' and how I loved being able to read four sequential novels back to back. Well I am my own publisher, so what's to stop me from doing exactly the same with my trilogy? Plus I have to admit I was envious of how Philip Pullman's trilogy had one overall name it was known by; 'His Dark Materials'. I wanted my trilogy to be known overall by one name, the way how was to compile it. Using this method, I could get the best of all worlds and so could potential customers.

One book and one overall name for my trilogy, that would only be sold online (unless book retailers chose to pay the cost of printing them up and holding them in stock). Buying each book individually offline at a cost of £36 or all in one online at the cost of £27. You do the math and think up all the other benefits that as a publisher this holds for both myself and my readers. Authors and self-publishers, we gotta start thinking bigger and finding ways to reduce on our outgoing costs. Think smart, work smart.

You have now been introduced to a simple concept that falls under the theory of 'HYPKNOWLOGY'.

HYPKNOWLOGY is due for release on November 6th 2010 and will be available on my site: TosinCoker.com Advance purchases can also be made on Amazon.

Reality Check aka A Painful Confession

Maybe this past month I've been in denial. Despite my desire to remain optimistic, I guess the time has come to face facts - it's time to start over, and it sucks big time!

In the first week of last month, I had a crisis so severe, I couldn't even entertain the possibility of not being admitted to hospital. I'm talking pain that was more like random electrical discharges that surged through my body if I tried to instruct it to do the smallest thing. When people have asked me what being in a crisis feels like, I usually say it is similar to the pain of being in labour. You know that point when the mother-to-be screams like a wretched beast: "I don't care what you have to do, just get it the hell outta me! Give me the fucking knife I'll do it my damn self..." Or maybe that was just me? I don't know, but that kind of pain is what it usually feels like. However, this time the pain felt like when you have an exposed nerve in your tooth and just taking in a sip of air feels like torture. That is the best way I can describe what I went through that day.

I came out of hospital two days later, but the recovery time took two weeks. I could barely walk and as such, was stuck upstairs in my room for the duration. By the end of the two weeks I had some how caught this crazy ass flu that made me feel like I was dying all over again. By the end of that I was adamant - I needed to get out of the house. Though it was cold as hell outside, my children had lost their hats, and the mother in me felt bad enough for not being able to cook etc. but allow them to suffer in the cold? That was more than I could handle, so I went out. For most of my journey I was on the phone to a friend via my handsfree, popping in from one shop to another, searching for the kind of hat that had ear flaps (don't know what they are called) before finally buying some minimal preparation food that I could serve up to my short peeps that evening. My outing had been painfully strenuous, but I was just happy that my short peeps head's would be protected from the harsh elements of the season.

Since being stuck in bed, I would allow my youngin's to pile in with me and watch a movie on my notebook, and that evening as we chilled together, I got a text come through on my phone. My eyes widened in horror as I picked it up. My alarm wasn't due to the contents of the text, I hadn't even got to acknowledging that yet, it was the absence of my usb key that usually dangled from it, that threw me. I took a deep breath and got out of bed and started searching for any place it may have dropped. The cord that joined it to my phone wasn't damaged at all, so how on earth did it come off?

After ransacking the house, and remembering clearly that it was still attatched to my phone before I set out, it could only be that I lost it whilst gallavanting in search of head-gear. This was serious, I was in pain again, but I had no choice. I absolutely had to go out and look for it. I tucked my children in bed, promising them to be back shortly, grabbed my torch and opened the front door.

You have got to be fucking kidding me! Of all the worst times, outside was covered in snow that before opening the door, I had been oblivious to. Where the hell did all this come from, I was out there bearly 3 hours prior, there was no signs of snow back then. But even the mini blizzard wasn't enough to stop me, I needed that usb back. I retraced my steps for over 2 hours, leaving descriptions and contact details with every store I had visited that was still open, before finally coming home empty-handed.

I always tell everyone about backing up their data and though I was gutted, at least I still had that much... Or so I thought. My last back up only had one paragraph of the 15 or so chapters of the last book in my trilogy. I had not only lost book 2, but book 3 and all the notes also. The only saving grace is that I had more recently backed up book 2 in the form of sending a friend the first 17 chapters to give me her thoughts on. Even so, since then I had written another 5 chapters or more.

I refused to believe I had really lost so much and so carelessly, that I dared not tell more than 4 of my real close peeps and even then each time I heard myself recount the story, I felt like a part of me died. Speaking of it was like admitting I wasn't ever going to find it again. I preferred instead to hope it would turn up, perhaps I would get a phone call with good news. A month later however, I finally have to take a reality check: It's gone, 20 or so chapters of my soul's passion, gone. It's not coming back. It really isn't coming back.

I haven't been able to write the sequels over again with the same drive ever since. Couple that with tending to a body riddled with pain and a recent heartbreak, and you've pretty much got a sister who despite the front, has totally lost her mojo. Maybe I'm being a little over dramatic, but it feels like I'm suffering a bereavement of sorts, though I honestly don't know which pain hurts most.

Needless to say, it may be a little while longer before book 2 gets published if at all.

Oi! Hand's Off The 'fro!!!

As a woman who has natural hair, there are times that I like to wear it in the style of an afro. This happens to be one of my favourite ways of styling it, but unfortunately I don't do it that often, mainly because the weather in London is so miserable, and for some reason seems to attract rain even when not forecasted. I don't know, i seem to have the same problem when I wear all white too, but I digress. The thing that some fail to realize, is that to many of us who are naturals, our hair is not just a statement, regarded it is a divine soul connection. Our hair performs as an antenna, amplifiying varying forms of energy, including light and soundwaves. It is statement of consciousness that goes beyond the physical. My hair to me is the manifestation of my spirituality. Sure it's not the same for all of those who wear their hair natural, perhaps for many it is a cultural statement, or simply a preferred alternative to chemical processing - who knows, I'm sure the reasons are as vast as the styles we can adorn.

For me my hair is sared and that goes beyond the presence of it. As I'm sure you know there are many who report phantom pains after the amputation of a limb. Even those who doubt it and poo, poo'ed the notion before undergoing such surgery are shocked or even confused and ashamed when they too admit to suffering pain in the region of a limb that is no longer present. Why? Because you can cut away the physical, but it does not automatically do away with the etheric/spiritual counterpart. While I shave all my hair off from time to time, that is not to say I respect my natural any less, for its etheric counterpart still remains and holds as much potency for me as does the physical.

Like my spirituality, my hair is something I do not share with just anyone, as its meaning to me is personal. If I am to let someone touch my hair, I'm very wary as to who it is and the energy of that person. Do not touch my hair in anger, even if done gently, I would be as offended as if you had just slapped my face. Bearing this in mind, imagine how I feel when I'm out walking whilst sporting an afro and some random bod reaches out to grab a quick feel? Knowing how I am when it comes to my hair, my short peeps asked me what I would do in this scenario an couldn't stop laughing at the way my jaw dropped in horror at the prospect.

I'm always quick to deflect or dodge this attempts to finger my 'fro, but I was caught off guard once several years ago now. I was as work and a colleague came up behind me and grabbed my hair and started massaging her fingers through it! THE NERVE!!! I was so shocked, that thankfully I was paralysed long enough to overide the reflexive action of my hand drawing back to slap the taste out of her mouth. I found myself gasping for breath at the surge of energy that transfered through her hand and into my head, but because of it recognised that she meant no malice. Evenso I had to asked to be excused from my post so I could and run to the bathroom to recompose myself. Whilst in there, I found myself repeating the word 'Why?' for a straight minute. I was thorougly confused, moreso because it was a black woman! If she were a man I would have felt even more violated, and probably would have followed through with my intent to bitch slap, regardless of the consequences. As it happens, my mortification saved us both, but to this day I wonder why would anyone do such a thing? If my hair was straighted and carefully styled, would it be okay to thrust your hand into it and ruffle it without regard? If I was white, would it be okay to creep up behind me, grab my hair and rumage as though I were an inanimate mannequin?

I may sound like I'm over-reacting, but ladies, have you ever found yourself refering to a hairdresser as having, 'hands that are good for my hair' or telling others how, 'my hair grows well when he/she does it'? Well many a time we ignore the fact that the primary reason for this is more about the energy of that person, than the products they are using, or their level of skill. Ever had a person that was in a bad mood do your hair? How did it feel? With some people who care for your hair, it breaks right? And you don't go back to them because something was off even though everything they did seemed professional and meticulous. Well if you are well attuned to your hair, the sensitivity to others who put their hand in it can be overwhelming.

What people don't seem to get is that grabbing my hair is as intimate as having groped my breasts or my butt. YOU DON'T DO IT, YOU HAVE NO RIGHT! As far as I am concerned, if touched without my permission or by a non-family member who is innocently picking fluff out of it, it is a beat down offense.

Even when in a relationship, a sure fire way of testing just how much I am feeling you, is to try to touch my hair. If I recoil or slap away your advance, you are far from being a permanent fixture in my life. If I allow it and even smile when you do, if I'm not already in love, the potential undoubtedly exist for it to happen in due time.

When dealing with a natural sister, though her relationship with her hair may be totally different to mine, the general rule of thumb is to seek permission first, and don't be offended if the answer is no!