Having waited more than 20 years to hear Maya Angelou speak, I was not disappointed when she appeared at West Virginia University Friday night. I doubt the author of I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings, among many other books, knows how to disappoint.

I was a little surprised that she was so funny (Her stories about flying on commercial airlines versus traveling by private bus were hilarious!) and amazed at her ability to recall so much information. It makes me yearn to be 83, so I can know that much. (Okay, maybe not quite that mature.) How did she cram all the poetry and other stuff in there, anyway? Apparently, it was because she was a reader. And a believer: not only did her mother and other loved ones believe in her as a child, but she believes in her own abilities, and the ability of the human brain, since it is--as she said--far more powerful than any computer out there.

These are important reminders for anyone who claims to not like reading, or who prefers playing video games or hanging out at social networking sites. Especially in this day and age when reading--which expands not just your horizons, but also your brain--takes time, and there are no shortcuts.

In case you've never had the privilege of seeing her in person, she is graceful and elegant, and holds herself well. (At age 15, she was already six-feet tall.) She wore a black gown and dark glasses and had her hair covered with a classy-looking wrap. (I think it's ironic that, except for one Mountain Stage performance, I've never sat that close to the stage before. Yet somehow, I ended up with a seat smack in the center, two rows away.)

Here are a few points I took away from her speech: First and foremost, it takes courage to survive--especially if you've been abused, as she was at age seven. Second, we all have something to give to someone else; she calls it "being the rainbow in their cloud." Third, there is no room for racist remarks or attitudes in our world.

That's when she told the story about being a director and having an office in Hollywood, when the "suits" came by and one of them used a racist term unrelated to Blacks, but apparently connected to some other group of people. Angelou told them she would have none of it and ordered them to leave her office. When the "suits" reminded her it was their office (since they owned it), she promptly left.

Racism "gets down in the carpet, and into the furniture where you're sitting and then it's all over your clothes and before you know it, it's in you," Angelou said.

Personally, I like her zero-tolerance for racist attitudes and comments, and think it's something we can all imitate.

There is so much more to say about the woman who is a celebrated poet, author, professor, playwright, producer, director and civil rights activist--among other things. In addition to speaking several languages, she has more than 30 honorary degrees, a Pulitzer nomination, three Grammy awards and even the Presidential Medal of Freedom. Not to mention the fact that she's been invited to write poetry for former President Bill Clinton's inauguration speech, and the United Nations.

I think I'll wrap this up by saying that of all the things I liked about her performance, the one thing she said that I won't forget is that people who don't smile can't be trusted.

Friday night Angelou smiled most of the time. So we can trust her.

Posted by Daleen at 10:50 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Here's a bit of news you won't read on The Daily Beast. My recent trip to New York had some wonderful highs and some serious lows, among which was being robbed. That's a first for me, and one I'd rather not have experienced.

I sure hope the thieves who broke into my rental car and stole my camcorder enjoy the footage they found, as well as feel proud of their efforts--after going my entire adult life (for me, adulthood began at 16) without a camcorder, due to not having enough money to buy one, for the most part--I purchased one last year to tape my grandsons. The only footage I had of my own four children came from their grandparents, who shared that single video with me. I kept hoping to buy one, but it never worked out. Something I was determined to change, when it came to my grandchildren.

So last summer I purchased the $550 toy, and found not only did it do a great job of taping my bambinos, it also worked swell as a tool for my writing work. Case in point: I taped my two most recent speaking events, including the one where I discussed the La'Shanda Armstrong tragedy in Frostburg. I planned to post it on You Tube, and would have, as soon as I had help uploading it. In addition, part of the footage was going to go into my book trailer--which a business friend said I really, really need. So much for that.

Because not only does my rental insurance not cover it, neither does my own auto insurance, which is liability coverage only. (Who keeps full coverage on a car that's 14 years old?) This is where the saying, "Easy come, easy go," does not apply. I will be waiting for awhile to replace it.

Meanwhile readers, I am finding out, are identifying me with my writing. And so my recent piece in The Daily Beast about La'Shanda Armstrong's funeral came with more public flogging. Apparently, in reporting the facts, as I did there, some people assume these are my opinions. Not necessarily. But if they were, I certainly could not include them in a hard news piece. That's what op-eds are for, like this first one I did for The Beast. Which I was flogged for, as well. Oh well, I guess we can't please everyone all the time, can we? (I'll save my rebuttals for another day, or post comments on the articles themselves.)

Finally, en route to the funeral, I stopped at a convenience store to: a) Ask for directions; b) Use the restroom and, c) Charge my dying cell phone. That's when I was mooned. Unintentionally. The clerk told me to knock on the door and if no one answered, and the key was also outside the door, on a ledge, then the loo was vacant. So I knocked, got no response, and realized the key was right there. I picked it up, inserted it, opened the door and, viola, I was mooned in less than a New York minute.

Poor chap, he didn't even know it, since he was in the process of flushing and had his backside to me. (Yes, even though I gasped and immediately closed the door, I saw that much.) Thank goodness he didn't see me, too!!! I figured he would come out and know exactly who had invaded his privacy, but before he could, two more people came into the store. Much to my relief.

Watcha wanna bet next time he takes the key inside with him?

Editor's note: Sister of Silence, which is not about being mooned, but which does nonetheless actually contain some humor--since laughter really is the best medicine--is available now for only $14.99. And no, I'm not exploiting the recent tragedy to sell my book. I'm exploiting the guy who mooned me.

Posted by Daleen at 02:51 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

I hate it when I have the scoop and have to hold it--only to lose it to someone else. That's the world of breaking news, though, and the first person who nails the story gets to run with it!

Not that it matters, but I had the story at 7 a.m. today, and would have had it last night, had I not gone to bed just before receiving a text message. I am bummed.

And so, about 5 p.m. today, the world learned that funeral plans had changed, seemingly overnight. That instead of there being one funeral for Lashanda Armstrong and her three little ones: 5-year-old Landen Pierre, 2-year-old Lance Pierre and 11-month-old Laianna Pierre, there will now be two funerals. (Lainanna, by the way, turned one today. Yet another sadness this family must bear.)

I have been so busy replying to emails from people who not only comprehend this story, but who have also lived it--or are living it right now--that I haven't even had time to comment about my national piece at The Daily Beast. And all I have time for now, as I toss my clothes into a bag and hit the road in my rental vehicle, is to say that there are a lot of mean people out there, who don't know how to play nice. I guess they could be just having a bad day. Or not. I wonder if they would feel the same way, if they were on the recipient's end of these brave, heartbreaking messages I'm reading.

Now back to today's news: two funerals for a grieving family and the only surviving sibling--La'Shaun Armstrong, who has faced more in his short 10 years than most of us will ever face in an entire lifetime--just somehow doesn't make sense to me.

But that's just me.

EDITOR'S NOTE: I'm just another woman who was once as overwhelmed as Lashanda seemed to be.

Posted by Daleen at 06:58 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Lashanda Armstrong was "a happy, loving, bubbly child who would come through the door and tell you jokes to get you to laugh. She loved to dance, she loved music. She loved Beyonce!”

That's how Armstrong's aunt, Angela Gilliam, described her niece, saying that was the Lashanda everyone knew and loved—not the Lashanda who made international headlines last week.

I urge each of you to not forget this tragedy. Armstrong's death, and that of her three young children, can impel us to help other single, struggling, overwhelmed young mothers—so they don't repeat her fatal mistake.

Armstrong was yet another young mother who imploded—when she drove her van into the Hudson River last week, killing not just herself, but three of her four young children: Landon, 5; Lance, 2; and Lainaina, 11-months-old. La'Shaun Armstrong, her firstborn at age 10, survived the tragedy when he escaped from the van and swam to shore—and then went for help. Sadly, it was too late for his mom and siblings.

Every time I hear of another tragedy like this one—and it hasn't even been a year, since that this same scenario played out in another town, when Shaquan Duley killed her two little boys.

No, Duley didn't take her own life, but that doesn't mean much in cases like these. Experts recognize that—just as Susan Smith planned to kill herself, too—when the survival instinct takes over, these mothers who have already killed their children can't follow through and commit suicide.

That's why Smith and other mothers like her more often end up in prison, than dead.

I know what's needed to keep from taking that final fatal step. It takes an intense and burning desire to keep going, to stay alive, so that you don't cross that line and become another terrifying statistic blasted by people who know no better. It also takes faith, that you can do it, and, quite simply, just living life one day at a time, so it doesn't overwhelm you.

It also takes reaching out to others, and not being afraid to ask for help, graciously accepting it when help is offered, and not feeling guilty for needing it. Life is too short to spend it blaming ourselves for such stuff, especially when you're a single, stressed-out mother whose life consists of being the sole party responsible for four other lives!

As Gilliam told me today, other young women like her niece need to "open up and tell somebody. There's too much help out there" not to do so.

"I hope they remember her story. Don't let life stress you out," Gilliam pleaded to these young girls and women, so they won't repeat Armstrong's mistake.

Editor's Note: Sister of Silence is Berry's story about how her life nearly ended like Armstrong's did.

Posted by Daleen at 05:24 PM | Permalink | Comments (2) | TrackBacks (0)

Rick Shartzer was right. All I needed to do was be patient and let my hard work and perseverance pay off.

"It's only been a month," the Cleveland school teacher said.

"I know, but patience has never been my strong suit," I whined. (I know I was whining, because I heard it in my voice. Which took me back 15 years, to the days when my children would tease me: "You want some cheese to go with that whine?")

That was before I knew that Sister of Silence sales were going to begin climbing so quickly. So to date, this is how my book is trending: Feb. 18—official launch date. Sell a handful of books. Feb. 19—book release party. Sell 25 books. March 1—books are selling, on average, one per day. March 15—slow climb, two a day. March 30—three a day. April 8—sales appear as if they're going to climb. But appearances can be deceiving, or so I tell myself.

Then, on April 11—just two days ago, in fact—something happened. What? I have no idea. Well, I do have a few, but they're not based on hard data—just conjecture. That, and feedback from readers. Feedback from people who are now finding this blog (Thank you Tumblr, Twitter and Facebook, for leveling the playing field for women like me, who have been financially strapped most of our lives!) and actually posting real, honest-to-goodness comments—instead of inviting me to buy Viagra, or push-up bras, or worse!

Some feedback comes from people I know, but much of it is coming from people I've never met before. And that's the exciting part—and the part that makes me realize that all those literary agents and publishing houses are pretty clueless about not just the publishing world, but life in general. ("Nobody likes me. Everybody hates me. Think I'll go eat worms.")

Unlike the Amanda Hocking of two years ago, when she wrote her first post, I know what readers want. I know what they like, and I know they will keep coming back for more—if you just give it to them. That's really at the heart of the matter, and what the publishing industry boils down to.

I know I also have a pretty solid record as a good writer. Yes, being an award-winning journalist doesn't hurt—unless you're caught in a whirlpool of unemployed, Pulitzer-prize-winning ones. And yes, having a boatload of professional development courses on your CV certainly makes a difference.

But wait, most of my readers don't even know these things about me. I seriously doubt that many, if any, of them have even seen my resume. What they do know—what I'm hearing, from what they're telling me (or other people, who are then telling me!!!)—is that my writing appeals to them. They sense I'm someone they can relate to. And guess what? They're right!

A woman I never met ordered Sister of Silence recently, after seeing an article about my work in the Preston County News. After receiving it, she wrote to me. I answered. She wrote back. She was thrilled. I was thrilled that she cared enough to write. It was a mutual admiration society in the works, for sure. And growing by the day, apparently.

Because not long after, a second woman (another complete stranger)—who ordered her copy while I was in California a few weeks ago—sent me a message while I was online and we began chatting. To be honest, I didn't have a lot of time, but she was so sweet and happy I took the time, and, as it turns out, we had a lot in common!

A day or so later, her daughter emails me, thanking me for taking time to talk to her mother, and telling me how much her mom enjoyed it. She was moved with gratitude. I was moved that she was moved, and really appreciated her thoughtfulness in seeking me out to tell me these things.

Here's the thing that all of this has taught me—and it's a lesson I learned under Linda Benson, all those years ago while cutting my cub reporter's teeth: To get the story, you have to be a good listener. You have to pay attention to details. You have to ask questions. You will learn more by listening than you will by doing anything else.

Are you listening now? If you have a voice, if you have talent, if you have a good story to tell—then just do it. Don't sit back and wait for someone to pull it from the bottom of a drawer, long after you're dead, and reap the rewards of your hard work.

Because this is what will happen if you have these key ingredients: your book sales, on a rainy April 11, will QUADRUPLE in sales. (And those are just the sales you know about.)

I feel like Casey did, in "Casey's Revenge" (a sequel to "Casey at the Bat")--because this time I'm not striking out!

Editor's note: Sister of Silence is $14.99. To order your copy, go to: http://nellieblybooks.com/sister-of-silence.html

Posted by Daleen at 12:24 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)