Chick Lit Aficionada: Interview with Author Deanna Carlyle

CONGRATS on having two of your pieces selected for the anthologies "This is Chick-Lit" and "Welcome to Wisteria Lane." How did you feel upon learning your works were accepted?

Thanks for your kind wishes, Shon! Well, I'll tell you how it felt: Good. There's nothing like the sound of "yes" to make a girl's day. Especially when said girl is used to hearing "maybe" and "no."

That's the writer's life, though. We just have to keep sticking our neck out there like frightened, decrepit tortoises until somebody hands us a piece of lettuce. In the meantime we should keep busy sharpening our beaky nose and keeping an eye out for people who want to make turtle soup out of us for dinner.


Can you tell us a bit about each of your accepted projects?

Funny that you should ask . . . . I hope your subscribers and site visiters will check out the THIS IS CHICK-LIT anthology in which my story appears, if not for my story, then for all the others penned by a talented group of chicks. My contribution is called "Dead Men Don't Eat Quiche." It's a short mystery featuring a goof-ball heroine who has to solve a vice count's murder while her parents are visiting her in Paris.

For all you "Desperate Housewives" fans, I hope you'll check out the anthology WELCOME TO WISTERIA LANE by SmartPop Books. Each piece is a fun and thoughtful look at the cult series. My contribution is called "Watching Desperate Housewives with the Europeans." I use cross-cultural theory and personal observations to examine how Europeans view Americans via the series.


What are three of your guilty pleasures?

I'd tell you, but then I'd have to get a pen name.


As a member of your yahoogroup CHICK LIT: Women's Fiction Markets and Tips, I have to say that you have created a phenomenal community. To those who may not know, tell us about the group and your inspiration for creating it.

I hope your readers will click on over to my place (http://www.deannacarlyle.com) and join in all the chick-lit fun. Who says reading and writing have to be lonely and boring? We sure don't see it that way. The 1000+ authors and writers subscribed to ChickLit are serious about their career and their craft, but not so serious as to be a drag.

The inspiration for this networking group came from the spirit of the chick-lit genre itself: Chick lit is for any woman who has ever laughed at a joke about PMS, chocolate or a clueless man.


Being the chick lit aficionada that you are, what do you think the state of chick lit is today?

Chick lit is alive and well and getting her roots done! Her little sister is fighting off morning sickness and the boss from hell, and her big sister is considering Botox but realizes that this is probably a mistake and a sign of low self-worth.


Dream-on: You've been given greenlighted to do any creative project you want. What project would that be?

Ooh. That's a toughie. I'd love to work on a team writing for a TV series. I'd also love to team up with a likeminded co-author for an epistolary novel or a mystery series. I thrive on that sense of personal responsibility and immediate feedback that comes with working in a team.


What are you currently working on?

Thanks for asking! I'm working on a chick-lit mystery series set in Paris and an historical drama screenplay set in Baden-Baden. Two completely different worlds and genres, but they keep me busy and happy.

Thanks again for this opportunity, Shon! I had fun.

Ready to Move into My Cave - a meandering rant on race by way of the Olympics

Typically, I am a big fan of the Olympics, particularly the Winter Olympics. I love figure skating and skiing. Well, I was reading an article today that discussed how America is having a so-so Olympic. The article also discusses Shani Davis, an African American who recently won gold for the 1,000m speedskating race, the first medal for an African American during the Winter Olympics. Great feat. Much kudos for him.

Now, this article goes on to discuss how his mother is this maniacal "stage" mother who may be hurting her son's image more than she will ever know. The article also discusses how Davis has become this selfish athlete who wanted to focus on his two individual competitions than to perform during the team competition, a move that would have aided a fellow American teammate in getting rest and perhaps breaking a record for a number of gold medals in one Winter Olympic.

Okay. This is interesting. I smell race popping up somewhere. This particular article, aside from saying he was an African American speedskater, never brings up the race issue. I do a little surfing off the internet because this article DOES mention some bad NBC interview Davis gave recently. I begin wondering about the interview, wondering why this negative picture of Davis is being painted.

The more articles I read about Davis, the more this (this being him, his blackness, his not wanting to participate in the team competition) becomes a race issue; some people cite how NBC pulled affiliates out of Africa, some discuss the issues of slavery and how Davis does not owe anything to America. Religion is brought into it. Many big, lofty, multi-syllabic words are thrown about, I'm sure injuring those who throw them because of the words' weight. Some people insinuate that going to the Olympics to represent America is a "white" thing.

I find myself getting that itch I get ever so often; the itch to pack my shit and head into my cave, the cave where people do not exist.

I know that race is an issue, will always be an issue. I'm sure Davis experienced it being in a white-dominated sport. I'm sure he had to endure some serious things in order to pursue his goals. I'm also sure that Davis is just the latest in one what we always endure: another scapegoat to hang yet another discussion on race on--a discussion that usually doesn't lead to anything because no one mixes action with their words anymore.

There are some issues I had with what I read:

Why is representing your country a race issue? That's just so freaking stupid. I'd want to do both...perform well in my solo events and perform well in my team events, but that's just me. Knowing absolutely nothing about the speedskating team, I can only assume that there IS a team. If Davis performed with the team in the past and it wasn't insane to think he might perform with the team during the Olympics, then I might wander to the WRONG side and shake a finger at Davis. However, if he's always performed in solo events and was asked to perform in the team competition out of the blue, I can't fault him for saying no. He's training his body to perform for particular competitions; breaking out of that regimen could affect his performance.

Is it wrong that Davis wanted to focus on his solo competitions? I don't know. I don't really care, but I do care when I see people having long-winded conversations about this when there are much more pressing issues like how to build better educational systems in various states in America--just off the top of my head.


My second issue is this: is it okay to use as an argument, no one was there to help us and now that we are PEOPLE OF IMPORTANCE, we don't need you, we don't want to have anything to do with you, be gone? One of the articles I read stated Davis' mother as saying she'll take the role of the bad guy in this scenario because during her son's journey to speedskating glory, no one ever wanted to help, but now they want a piece of him because he's somebody--you get not a piece of him because you did not help him get here. If this is truly her opinion, can we call her a bad person? I know in my life there have been people who was no where to be seen when I was down and out and needed help, but since I've begun to make something for myself, they have creep into the light of day, looking for a hand out or looking to be my friend again. I kicked them right to the curb. Now, having said that, I would say that I wouldn't agree with someone who because ignorance was bestowed upon them, they are now ignorant. What does that solve? Nothing.


I think why I'm really ready to move into my cave is I realize that the world will never change--not in the way I'd like it to. We will always find SOMETHING to argue about, something that's so vague, that's so insignificant that our angry words will only be that: angry words. Nothing will change because people don't do, they bitch and complain. They constantly bring it back to the race, they try to be witty by writing how Hedrick (a white speedskater) was preparing for his 'race.' See how witty they are? They used race and it's a double entendre because he had a "race" and he was preparing for his "white" race. Why?

I'm all for bitching and complaining. Hell, I do it and often, but typically, I do it with an agenda in mind to keep me from constantly bitching about the same thing. All this Davis thing did is allow people to vent and bitch about an issue that has divided our country since its inception: race. Will we remember it this time next year? Some may. Most won't. Will anything be done about? Will people rise up and fight for some aspect of this issue that deserves to be changed? Probably not. We don't do those types of things any more.

And I guess that's why I wrote this long-winded, insane post. I'm upset that all we do is TALK now. Race issues ARE important. EXTREMELY important. This young man who fulfilled a life-long dream should not be dragged into it, but we do because so many of us are still afflicted by the race issue and the only thing we are able to do is bitch about it whenever we can find some nugget of race in SOMETHING.

Unfortunately, we don't have Kings, Parks, Evers to fight the good fight. We just have the wind that blows out arguments, and eventually, just like the weather, wind dies down.

I don't wanna grow up...

Today, I was on the bus, on my way to the grocery store when a young mother and her baby got on the bus. They sat across the aisle, one row up from me. The little boy was beyond adorable; during the ride, he kept looking over at me and yelling loudly AHHHH every time I smiled or stuck my tongue out at him. I began playing peekaboo with him, hiding my face behind the sleeve of my jacket and popping up, and he just LOST IT. For about 15 minutes, we rode like this, me beyond tickled to play with the boy and he just seeing nothing but pure joy from something so simple as a stranger sticking her tongue out at him.

I immediately felt overjoyed myself, and just thought about how cool it is to be THAT naive as a child, where you think that every cardboard box or face can be a source of entertainment for you. When I got off the bus, I was still giddy and felt very light; it's been a LONG while since I've felt that good.

After I finished grocery shopping, I sat out front of the store for a second, and a mother came out of the store pushing a cart. At the bottom of the cart was her son, his legs propped up to keep his heels from hitting the ground.

Again, I felt happy, but this time I also felt a pang in my belly for the good old days, the days where my grandparents and my great aunts and uncles were alive and I was a kid. Though I did have my share of bad times as I kid, overall, it was the BEST time to be alive.

On Sundays, after church, all my family would gather at my grandparents for pitty pat, poker , and dinner. I, along with my cousins, used to sit under the table and collect the quarters that fell to the floor.

On Saturdays, we used to play volleyball over my grandmother's clothesline. We played red light, green light in the backyard. We played dodge ball in the road out front of the house. We played hide and go seek until way past dark. We played kickball and baseball using trees and rose bushes as the bases.

We were kids, and I missed that carefree, happy nature that we begin with as children, but slowly lose as we get older.

Despite the pangs of nostalgia and the loss of innocent youth, there is one thing from childhood that has remained intact, thank God, and that is my imagination. As a kid, I used to lay on the grass under an oak tree in my grandparents' backyard and just think and make things up. My cousins and I used to play pretend and make up these elaborate stories to see if we could get each other to believe in them.

Today, I still play pretend, except now I do it on paper instead of orally. I guess, in a way, I am still a kid because I always have the ability to pretend that I am a kid and see what mischief I can get my "inner kid" into.

My Favorites

The other day, my friend, Bill and I were talking about his favorite poets. He asked me what my favorite short stories were and though I didn't answer at the time, the thought of my favorite works came back to me this weekend. Below is my list of favorites, from short stories to poets. If you haven't read any of the authors or works listed, check them out. I don't think you'll be disappointed! :-)

Favorite Short Stories

“Ellen’s Book” by Michael Knight

“Drinking Coffee Elsewhere” by ZZ Packer

“Sonny’s Blues” by James Baldwin

“Teen Sniper” by Adam Johnson

“Sweat” by Zora Neale Hurston

Favorite Short Story (connected or not) Collections

Drinking Coffee Elsewhere by ZZ Packer

Goodnight, Nobody by Michael Knight

Kissing in Manhattan by David Schickler

Emporium by Adam Johnson

The Things They Carried by Tim O’Brien

Favorite Authors

Bernice McFadden

ZZ Packer

**nerd alert** Shakespeare **nerd alert**

Mary Higgins Clark

Karen Siplin

Favorite Novels

Beloved by Toni Morrison

Sugar by Bernice McFadden

The Hours by Michael Cunningham

More Like Wrestling by Danyel Smith

All around the Town by Mary Higgins Clark

Favorite Poems

“Daddy” by Sylvia Plath

“Lady Lazarus” by Sylvia Plath

“For Colored Girls Who Have Considered Suicide When the Rainbow Is Enuf” (choreopoem) by Ntozake Shange

“The Second Coming” by W. B. Yeats

“Ego Tripping” by Nikki Giovanni

Favorite Poets

Sylvia Plath

Anne Sexton

Nikki Giovanni

W. B. Yeats

Ntozake Shange