Sunday, December 16, 2012

Gone Too Soon!


Article written on The Examiner!



I was standing in front of a TD Bank ATM machine when I found out about what happened at Sandy Hook Elementary School.  I had asked someone who had entered the vestibule after me how he was.  He responded by telling me that he was fine up until fifteen minutes ago.  Apparently, he had just found about the tragic shooting that had taken place in Newtown, Connecticut.  When he told me, I couldn’t believe it.


The first thing that came to my mind was the children and their families.  I couldn’t understand how someone could take the lives of so many innocent children.  As the details continued to unfold and I found out more about what had taken place on Friday, my heart broke.  I thought about the parents that lost their child; how they probably finished their Christmas shopping for their children and how those presents will go unopened. 
 
There are so many components to this tragedy but none of them make any sense.  There were too many innocent lives lost.  They were babies who were beginning their lives that were taken away far too soon.  Even now as I type this, my heart is breaking once again.  I watched as a parent of one of the victims barely managed to contain himself as he talked about his daughter.  He was a better one than me because I couldn’t. 
I couldn’t write about the man that committed this horrendous crime because I just couldn’t bring myself to lend credence to the act that he committed.  I didn’t want to give him any coverage because this isn’t about him.  This is about the babies that were lost.

I do not have children of my own, but I have nephews and nieces that I adore.  They know me as uncle and they have so much love for me that it fills my heart to the point of bursting.  To think that this could have easily happened to one of them is incomprehensible.
 
I can’t begin to ask myself why this man thought to take the lives of so many innocent people.  We can attribute it to mental illness.  We can speculate that there are too many graphic video games on the market that desensitizes our youth.  We can say that we need to pay closer attention to our children and participate in their lives to prevent tragedies like this from occurring.

But the simple truth of the matter is that there are too many moving parts to this tragedy to lay blame to one area.  All we know is that we as a nation have to come together to grieve and lift up the families that have lost someone in this senseless violent act.  We need to understand that gun lobbying isn’t going to stop massacres like this.  It’s not about gun control. The problem goes much deeper than that.  We need to recognize when someone in our respective families may display characteristics of someone that may need mental help.  We may need to take the stigma off of someone that needs the skill set of a mental health provider to help them address  any issues that they may be dealing with.

But here is a question that I want to leave everyone with.  Have we as a nation become so desensitized to the needs of our fellow man that we have forgotten how to love?  Have we become so engrossed in getting through the day to day that we have forgotten how to care?  And is caring the first step in resolving this problem?

J.L. Whitehead

Friday, December 7, 2012

A must have tool for authors!!


Have you thought about ways to promote your book but you don't have additional funds to make it happen?  Here's an answer that you and your readers may enjoy!

Webmmercials helps you create a presence online by putting together a professional commercial to help promote your business, novel or company!  The prices are reasonable and the results are amazing!

Contact Val Johnson at 877-215-9580 or visit her website at www.webmmercials.com


Enclosed is the webmmercial that she did for me and my novel!  Enjoy!


Monday, December 3, 2012

Friday, November 23, 2012

Is there enough support within the African American Literary Community?

Whenever I speak in front of an audience about the art of writing, I often begin by asking a simple question.  The question is this: “By a show of hands, how many of you have a story inside of you that you would like to tell?”  Most of the audience will raise their hands even if they hesitate for a second or two to see if they are the only ones.  The second question that I ask is: “How many of you know how to tell it?”  Some hands go down, but a few still remain in the air.  I then ask them the final question: “If you have a story to tell, and you know how to tell it, what’s stopping you?”  Most of the responses are plausible.  I don’t have the time.  I don’t have the money.  I don’t have the patience.  I have a job.  I have kids.  I’m just too busy.  I don’t know how to get started.

Many people write for different reasons.  Some write because they have a story that they feel is so important that they must tell the world.  Some want to write in the hopes of striking that million dollar deal and having the ability to be able to quit their traditional job and just pen novels for the rest of their lives.  And some people simply love to write…and those are the people that I love to meet and talk to.  Those are the people that possess passion for the craft, and I can identify with that.

There are millions of African American authors in the United States and abroad, with thousands more releasing books every month.  With the rapid changes in the literary industry, it is not surprising that these numbers will, in all probable likelihood, double as the years roll by…and each one of these new authors believe that their work is very best of the best.  There isn’t an author out there who thinks that their work is just “okay”.  After all, what kind of author would that make them?

But if we have so many authors, and if the work that they are producing is really that good, why aren’t there more mainstream African American authors making stellar amounts of money and enjoying the good life that they long for?  To answer that question, you have to ask another one.  What means of support do these new authors have?  Most of them do not have the backing of a large publishing house that will take care of things for them like properly promoting and distributing their work.  We all know that you can have the best written manuscript out there, but it doesn’t mean anything if no one knows who you are.

At my last book signing, I sold one book.  I played to a party of one.  I had set up my books, cards, tee-shirts and waited for a few people to wander in.  I wasn’t brazen enough to think that a crowd of people would come to see me.  But a woman came in, sat down in front of me, picked up my book and for the next 30 minutes, we had the best conversation.  At the end of the conversation, she purchased my book.  I walked away feeling good about myself.  Not only did I want to go back to the library, I decided that I wanted to do something special for their clientele…in particular, the children and young adults that want to read and write.  I decided to conduct a free symposium and talk about my love of writing and share the tips that have brought me to where I am.

You see, we as authors don’t give enough.  We don’t support one another like we should.  With all of the African American authors and African American readers that are present, we should all be making a little bit of money.  But we sometimes forget about the big picture.  We go for the dollar bill when we should be going for the hundred.  And one of the main reasons for that is because of the competitive nature of the industry.  We all want people to buy our books so that we can get paid.  We don’t stop to hone our skill set. We may not take the time to properly edit our work or if we do, we pay the wrong person to do it and wind up with a lackluster product.  We don’t pay homage to the authors that are just as good if not better than we are because to do so would mean that we don’t believe in ourselves when all it really means is that we are humble.  And the last time I checked, there is nothing wrong with humility.
We are so busy hustling our products that we forget that to survive in this industry requires thinking outside of the box.  It requires allowing people to know who you are.  And let’s face it; people don’t really want to know someone whose only topic of conversation is about themselves or their work.  Not that there is anything wrong with that in and of itself, but if that is the only thing that you can think of to talk about then people will lose interest in you very quickly.

Since the industry is changing, maybe it really wouldn’t be such a bad thing to think of the much bigger picture.  Maybe in addition to promoting your work, you take a moment to figure out how to give of yourself to help someone else get to where you are trying to get to.  Maybe it’s time that we build a community instead of a lot of collective parts struggling to survive. A smart entrepreneur will think of both.  They know the importance of not only portraying a positive image, but they realize that part of that image entails giving back to a community that needs them.  Sometimes, it really isn’t so much about the dollar as it is about the love of literature.

There are organizations slowly cropping up across the country that is trying to do this very thing.  They host literary and networking events all in the hopes of creating a strong community that will foster and encourage young minds and nurture the creative talents of our youth.

I am not telling you to cease in your promotion efforts.  I’m telling you that you are part of a bigger picture.  I’m telling you that in the course of you discovering who you are as an author, you may inadvertently help someone else discover who they are as well.  And that is part of the beginning of building a solid literary community.

J.L. Whitehead



Tuesday, November 13, 2012

When will domestic abuse end


This is an article that I wrote and posted in my column on The Examiner website!  This is crazy!  When will men understand that no matter how beautiful the woman, if she's not happy with you, there are other women out there???

 Victim - Sarah Coit

Place where her murder took place



Another woman’s life has ended way too soon.  Another family mourns and repeatedly asks themselves “why?”  The sad part is, there are no answers.  That brings little comfort to the Coit family.

On Sunday, April 10, 2011, 23 year old Sarah Coit was brutally murdered by her boyfriend, then 33 year old Raul Barrera.  Neighbors were awakened at two a.m. by the screams of the young Hunter College graduate who had been looking forward to beginning a career in Marketing and Advertising…a career that would never come to fruition.

Allegedly, Ms. Coit had wanted to end the relationship between her and the live-in boyfriend when the violence erupted.  Barrera had gone to the kitchen to retrieve several knives from a butcher block utensil holder.  His assault took the victim by complete surprise. He admits to cutting her mouth on both sides of her face so that she resembled a grotesque version of “The Joker” from the movie version of Batman.  He stabbed her multiple times, nearly decapitating her.  The crime scene was too grisly for even the most hardened detectives.  And the reason for the assault was what many women fear the most when ending a relationship.  “If I can’t have you then nobody will.”

Barrera faces a maximum of 25 years to life. The hearing also creates a substantial record of the murder, which can be used against Barrera if he appeals or when he's up for parole.
Barrera's lawyer has said his client suffers from "emotional disturbances" and is expected to argue for a lowered sentence based on his mental health problems.

Last week Barrera pleaded guilty to Coit’s murder. Manhattan Supreme Court Justice Richard Carruthers presided over that plea as well as the two-day pre-sentencing hearing that concluded on Monday.

Barrera will find out the sentence for his crime on October 29, and is expected to receive anything from 15 years to life in prison. The killer is hoping his mental state and his guilty plea will earn him a lesser sentence.

But it seems to me that his mental state at the time of the murder wasn’t the issue at hand.  It appears to be something just a bit more simplistic yet even more terrifying.  Ms. Coit by all accounts was a stunningly beautiful young woman.  Mr. Barrera couldn’t bear the thought of anyone else having what he at one time had.  It was easier to kill her in a fit of rage and jealousy than to let her go.  But now that this horrific act has been done, what happens to him?  His life is ruined.  Will anyone feel pity for him?  Probably not.  And why should they?  Another young woman will never know the meaning of true love.  She will never marry…never have children…never be a grandparent.  Who knows what contributions Sarah Coit would have made to society?

So when will some men wake up and realize that there are other women out there?  If she is not happy with you, then you can’t possibly be happy either.  If you have to force someone to be with you then it isn’t love…its domination.

I’ve written too many articles and listened to too many women that have been the victims of domestic abuse.  I look forward to the day when I will not have to write articles like this anymore.  But for the men that perpetrate these horrible crimes on the very people that they are supposed to love and cherish, I ask you:  When will the violence end?

J.L. Whitehead

Saturday, October 27, 2012

Excerpt from Bruthas - The Final Chapter


He nodded as they continued down the block. She looked him
over once again before looking ahead as the high rise projects rose
in the distance like silent watchmen.
Once they arrived at the Projects, they rode the elevator to the
eighth floor, went to the familiar apartment, got a few caps and a
couple of bags heroin and left the building in a rush.

They walked about five blocks when they wound up in a row of
abandoned twin homes. He led her through a narrow alleyway that
separated two of the houses, and then he disappeared through a
large, man-sized hole in one of the buildings that led into the dining
room. She followed, carefully stepping over broken beer bottles
and shattered pieces of wood.


“Come on.” He said gruffly as he moved through the pitchblack
building as if he owned it. “Up here.”
She followed his voice, as she listened to his footsteps ascend
the rickety stairway to the second floor. He made his way to the
last room in the back that faced what would have been the
backyard.

“Sit down.” He said.
“On what?”

He lit a candle and set it on the floor. Then without saying
another word, he covered the two windows with a worn blanket that
smelled remotely of cat piss. Kaliyah looked around the room. She
had been in worse places, although not by much. The whole
building smelled of damp rotted wood, human feces and old
garbage. Kaliyah didnʼt notice it. Instead, she pulled out her
homemade pipe and waited anxiously as he emptied two caps into
his straight shooter and lit two matches. She sat down on the old
worn mattress that dominated the room. After a moment that
seemed like an eternity for her, he gave her a cap which she
dumped into her pipe.

“Light me up.” She said quickly.

He lit two matches and watched her as she inhaled deeply,
pulling the smoke into her lungs. He couldnʼt see her eyes, but he
knew what was happening. She fell silent as she held the smoke in
her lungs, and then exhaled slowly through her nose.

“Damn.” She murmured to herself as her mind began to soar.
“So you gotta name?” He asked while emptying another cap
into his pipe.
“Kali.” She said through closed eyes.
“You from Ê»round here?”
“I stay up in Carver most time.” What Kaliyah wanted this guy
to do more than anything was shut up and let her enjoy her high.
She was hoping that he wasnʼt one of those talkative niggas that
didnʼt know when to shut up when they got high.
“Here.” He handed her a cap, a tall boy by the looks of it, and
then pulled out a syringe, a spoon, and a rubber hose.
Kaliyah didnʼt get down like that, but she was willing to sit
aside and let him do what he needed to do. Maybe if he fell into a
coma-like sleep, she could pick him clean for the rest of the caps
he had on him. She opened the capsule and tapped some of the
crack into her pipe, and then lit it with a single match. She had to
pace herself. She didnʼt know how much he had left on him, and if
it were a decent amount, she didnʼt know if he were intent on
sharing. She could only assume he was.

She watched him as he injected something into his veins, and
then she waited. She watched him carefully through swirls of crack
smoke, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. She didnʼt want
to give him any reason to put his guard up.

“Can I do sumthinʼ to make you feel better?” Kaliyah asked as
she lit her pipe up again.
“Naw.” He said with a slur that told her that it wouldnʼt be long
now. “Iʼm straight. Here.” He fumbled into his pocket and passed
her another cap.

She dumped the rest of the first tall boy into her straight
shooter and lit it hurriedly. She could feel the heated rush as the
cocaine surged through her system, hitting her in waves. And in
that instant, she wanted to feel his hands on her, grabbing her,
squeezing, caressing, probing…making her wet, doing things on
that mattress that only people that got high together would do. For
about a minute, she wanted to feel him deep inside her. She
pictured him on his back while she rode him, bouncing and gyrating
on top of him until he couldnʼt hold back any longer. And then
reality kicked in and she was back to her normal self, plotting on
how to get the rest of his drugs away from him. She wanted to get
high more than she wanted to fuck. He mumbled something and
she hadnʼt heard him.

“What you say?” She asked.
“Blow the candle out.” He murmured softly.
She smiled to herself.
“This how you want it?” She asked him seductively.
“Yeah. In the dark. I like it in the dark.”
Kaliyah bent over and blew out the candle…and all hell broke
loose.

The man was instantly on her like a black shadow, punching
her viciously. She would have screamed but he had taken her
completely by surprise. He threw punch after punch, one landing
on the side of her head causing her to see stars; another smashing
her nose turning it into a squashed tomato.

What terrified Kaliyah wasnʼt so much the viciousness of his
attack as it was the lack of sound. He said nothing while he
slammed her. A kick to her ribcage knocked the wind out of her,
causing her to go sprawling. She struck back at him, clawing
wildly, making guttural primal noises from somewhere in her throat.
She knew that if she didnʼt, she would die in here, and she wasnʼt
trying to die in this abandoned house. But it was totally dark, and
she couldnʼt see anything until he hit her again. She rolled across
the floor in an attempt to escape, but it was as if he had infrared
vision and he was on top of her again, punching her with brute
force.

He had blackened one of her eyes, and it was beginning to
swell rapidly. Her lips had swollen to the size of mini-sausages.
She could taste her own blood in her throat, slick and coppery, and
then something snapped inside of her and she screamed, clawing
at the darkness, hoping that she tore something soft and vulnerable
on this man. She kicked savagely at his shape and then rolled over
on her stomach reaching for anything that she could get her hands
on to defend herself.

As luck would have it, her hands fell on a
piece of old piping. She rolled on her back and swung, feeling it
make connection with something hard and unyielding. The man
made a strangled gasp, and then the attack stopped. She heard
his footsteps as he stumbled across the room and out the door.
The adrenaline coursed through Kaliyahʼs body just as fast as
the cocaine had. She trembled in fear, high and anger. But she
was still in the house, and she hadnʼt heard him go down the stairs.
Holding the piece of piping in her hand, she stood slowly to her
feet, her one good eye opened saucer wide, peering into the jetblack
darkness of the hallway but seeing nothing.

She moved slow and deliberate, knowing that she was still high, but realizing
that she had to keep her head if she were going to make it out of
this house alive. She took a deep breath and immediately
regretted it. Pain sliced through her side, but she wouldnʼt let go of
the pipe. She was going to kill this nigga.

She stumbled into the hallway, trying to memorize where the
stairway began. Walking slowly, she felt along the hall not realizing
that tears were coursing down her cheeks. She had reached the
top of the steps when the man came at her from the darkness,
hitting her with a two by four in the dead center of her back.
Kaliyah fell down the steps, feeling each one as she bounced
against the crumbling wooden handrail and the wall. She went
sprawling face down on the first floor. From somewhere just above
her, she heard his footsteps descending towards her.

With anotherburst of adrenaline, she got to her feet and tore across the room
mumbling something that sounded like a prayer. Fortunately for
her, the dim light from the half-moon above shone on the hole in
the wall that they had entered in what seemed like a year ago. She
pushed her way through, expecting the man to be on her heels.
She stumbled through the alley, almost tripping twice on her own
feet. She raced out into the street crying, and then screaming, and
then falling onto her knees. She turned her head waiting to feel the
manʼs hands, and instead felt a cool spring breeze. The man had
gone…disappearing into the night almost as if heʼd never existed.
Kaliyah looked up The Block and saw something that she
thought she would never be glad to see…a police cruiser. And as
she crawled towards the edge of the sidewalk, the shock of what
had happened mixed with the cocaine caused her to fall into a dead
faint.

~ J.L. Whitehead

Monday, September 10, 2012

Preparing for Take-Off

The book has been written.  The cover has been designed.  Samplings have been given and feedback has been received.  Press releases are being devised for marketing and I am in good place mentally.  All of the blood, sweat, tears, money spent, friendships compromised and business dealings begun and terminated have all brought me to this moment.  It is do or die; the time when your book does what it does.

Some people think that it is easy to write a book.  Some authors are blinded by the allure of imagined wealth and fame.  Some people think that they've learned everything about this industry that they need to learn in order to grow...but the truth is that there is no such thing as knowing everything there is to learn.
Writing and navigating this industry is very much like navigating a ship through the ocean.  Sometimes the waters are calm and beautiful, and sometimes there are storms that threaten to sink our vessel.  But we keep on keeping on; mostly because we don't have a choice.

Writers write because they love to write.  We enjoy the act of putting pen to paper (or fingers to keyboard.)  We are blessed when someone loves are work, but we should be just as happy when someone criticizes us...provided, of course, that the criticism is given constructively.

I knew from an early age that I wanted to be a writer.  I knew that one day, I would write a book.  I didn't know how good it would sell, but I knew that it was in my DNA to put fingers to keyboard and pray for the miracle of success.

My writing skill has gotten me through some very challenging points in my life.  Sometimes, the characters that I created were the only friends I had.  Still, when I created the characters of Ryan, Jai and Nate, I knew that these men would help me in ways that I couldn't even begin to imagine.

I wanted to tell their story and I wanted their story to have meaning.  I wanted my audience to turn the pages and feel their pain and rejoice in their triumphs.  I wanted them to shake their head in sadness and laugh at some of the various one-liners that some of the unorthodox characters may say.  Mostly, I wanted people to understand that even if your family isn't perfect, family may be the only thing that you have.  I come from a family of all males, so I can speak first hand about the idiosyncrasies of different personalities.  But it is with those idiosyncrasies that we grow.

Naturally, I knew that no one would pick up my book because I had  great characters or a redemptive message nestled within the pages.  This was the reason why I wrote the murder mystery around these men.  Each one of these brothers has their own story to tell.  Each has their personal cross to bear.  And one of them will experience a life-shattering event that will change the course of his life forever.  The question is, which one will it be?

I hope that you take the time to read my book.  You see, I'm preparing for take-off, and I'm prepared to ride high.  And believe it or not, I really want you with me!

J.L. Whitehead

Wednesday, August 15, 2012

When people think the worst of you!!

I've spent years in an emotional space that I acknowledge wasn't good for me.  It took me years to realize that what I had dismissed as normal should never have been looked at through my minds lens at all.  If I had realized where I was, I probably could have saved myself a lot of aggravation and frustration.

One of the reasons why I started writing this blog was to chronicle my journey into the literary industry.  I wanted to write down what I went through so that when it comes time for me to claim what I believe is mine, I will embrace it completely and without reservation.  I would be able to share my steps with any other author who may be able to recognize that they share a similar story even if our particular paths are somewhat different.

Many of my posts have nothing to do with writing at all.  But they are relevant because as I make my way through this industry, I find that I am changing in every way possible.  Because of that, I want to share those changes with you as well.

I'm finding that as I change, people that I surround myself with change.  Their circumstances change.  What they need from you and what you may need from them change as well.  As a result, the way you deal with each other morphs into something else than what was originally intended.  Sometimes they are for the better, and sometimes they aren't.

I used to reside in an emotional space where I was always responding to someone's actions, whether it be verbal, emotional or physical.  Now my space has changed.  I find myself being the cause of someone reacting to me as opposed to me simply responding to something that someone may have done or said.  I believe they call this "taking command of your own destiny."

I find myself now more than ever not really caring what you think of me because if it isn't portraying me in my best light, you're probably going to think that way anyway no matter what I do or say.  Some people are like that.  I used to be one of them.

But what I'm finding is that when people let you down (and you know from time to time that they will), you can react differently.  You can step back instead of eliminating them depending on the value that you once placed on them.

You can focus on who you are as well as what you know yourself to be and rest secure in the knowledge that whomever is giving you a difficult way to go may have their reasons, whether they are real or not.  After all, perception is 99% reality.

I'm learning to implement this into my business dealings.  Let your "yes" be "yes" and let your "no" be "no".  Know when to compromise as long as it isn't your personal business ethic.

Life is simply too short to waste on people that won't lift you up.  Sometimes, you have to rely on yourself...and as long as you've given it everything you've got, then at the end of the day, be happy with a job well done.  And if you didn't give it your all, well, there's always tomorrow!

J.L. Whitehead

Monday, July 30, 2012

The Traditional Bookstore's Fight for Survival


Bookstores across the country are fighting for their very survival.  We are living in an age where virtually anything can be downloaded onto your computer from the comforts of your home with the click of a mouse button.  And while technology allows us the ability to shop from home, merchants have had to take measures to keep up with the new age that we are living in.

Bookstores had to think of creative and innovative ways to compete with on-line shopping sources like Amazon, Barnes and Noble and Books-A-Million.  They have found themselves competing with eBook hardware like Nooks and Kindles, and with the advent of these tools come the associated technology that continuously lowers the price of books from the standard $15.00 to the average of $5.00.

Many bookstores that found themselves flourishing in the Eighties and Nineties have closed up shop because of the inability to compete.  Still, other bookstores have elected to fight the good fight to the bitter end, choosing to re-invent themselves to keep their doors open.

Some have elected to change their formal title from being known as a simple bookstore to becoming a literary/literacy center.  Others have gone the route of becoming their own publisher and distributer, making the works of their own authors available at their location alone.  Some have turned to becoming a literary café; serving food, coffee, and cold drinks while people browse their shelves for the next great read.  And others have decided to implement various strategies by selling other merchandise that cannot be obtained in other mainstream stores – items such as paintings, sculptures and tee-shirts.  Indeed, this is a fight that wages on, and while some stores have won, others have fallen and others have teetered on the brink of success. 

MeJah Books located in the Tri State Mall in Claymont, Delaware is an example of such a bookstore that is in the process of re-inventing itself, desperately holding onto to its place within the public sector.  Instead of electing to close the doors forever, the owner has elected to become a mecca for culture and creativity within the community.  Today, The Examiner sits down with the staff of MeJah Books Incorporated to talk about how the implementation of technology has impacted the growth of this store, and what the owner intends to do to fight back!

JL:  In your opinion, how has the book buying public changed over the last five years and how has this impacted you?   

MeJah:  The habits of the buying public began to change in 2007 and with each passing year it has become more of a challenge due to economical and technological influences – such as layoffs, terminations, company shut downs and the increase of eBooks purchases and hardware.  Gradually, regular customers weren’t coming as frequent, sales decreased throughout the week, non-frequent customers began to be bold and boast about better sales (deals) at Borders, Walmart and flea markets.  They also cited the Nook, iPad and  Kindle as the replacement for printed books.


JL:  What is it about your store as well as other stores like yours that makes it special?

MeJah:  The compassion, creativity and hospitality of the shopkeeper as well as her co-workers set MeJah Books apart from any other book store that you may visit in the tri-state area.  Emlyn DeGannes, affectionately known as Ms. Em (Ms. M) by her customers was raised in a village in Trinidad, West Indies until age thirteen when she migrated to the States with her family.  Her education and experience helped forge her dreams into a reality and MeJah Books was born fourteen years ago today.  It is more than just a bookstore. Ms. Em has created a peaceful atmosphere that revives and uplifts the human spirit. It is a haven for artists to network and a cultural center to educate the young and old.  Through her bookstore, she teaches the community near and far how to be a better human being by becoming the change they want to see in the world.


JL:  Would you provide examples of how you have become a staple within the community?

MeJah:  MeJah Books has been a service to the Tri-State community since 1998: an authorized shipper to institutions as well as an inspiration to the many men and women that are incarcerated, mentoring at-risk youth through reading and creative writing, initiated Toys for Children with Incarcerated Parents and is known for its outstanding customer service, hospitality and events. 

JL:  What efforts are you taking to keep your store alive?

MeJah: We are becoming more proficient in using social media accounts to advertise and promote the book store and our events, expanding the café area, offer free WiFi service to customers, host old school fun activities for children and adults, host dialogue exchanges on a variety topics for adults on relationships, manhood and finances-just to name a few.  We also offer free self-publishing seminars, jazz coffee mixers and speed dating events.  We will also be focusing on health and wellness by introducing a juice bar along with education.


JL:  With the shift towards stores becoming "literary centers" or "literary cafes", do you think that this would give you a competitive edge given that we are living in an age of e-readers? 

MeJah:  Yes, it would because we have learned that we cannot depend on just the sales of books alone. We must embrace the technological age and offer the tools needed to be a successful author and expand the café’ menu.  While social media has created a more social impact and has heightened dialoging, literary center or literary cafes are supporting the climate of change in technological time.


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J.L. Whitehead