tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-45368047783857912892011-11-27T16:34:22.566-08:00Public Journal of L. Rebecca Harris, authorL. Rebecca Harrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05762586558413597027noreply@blogger.comBlogger241100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4536804778385791289.post-90457085799604033972010-07-18T17:19:00.000-07:002010-07-18T17:55:03.290-07:00

Au then tic i ty: [n] The quality or condition of being authentic, trustworthy, or genuine.I’ve been thinking about authenticity a great deal lately. Perhaps it is a by-product of getting older; I am not so much impatient, as I am short on time. The older I get, I realize that I don’t have as much time for other people’s agendas because I’m trying to complete the items on my own bucket list. I

L. Rebecca Harrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05762586558413597027noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4536804778385791289.post-83485921202821228972009-07-17T16:01:00.000-07:002009-07-17T18:20:13.206-07:00

An excerpt from this novel-in-progress is published in the 2009 San Francisco Writers Conference Anthology. Available on both iUniverse and Amazon.Check it out!

L. Rebecca Harrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05762586558413597027noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4536804778385791289.post-75446413829297347882009-07-16T11:24:00.000-07:002009-07-16T11:25:17.576-07:00

Hi, all. Below please find a link to a site selling t-shirts with a writing inspired message. The proceeds benefited a writer-friend of mine whose mother was a victim of a stroke. I hope you'll consider buying one. They are reasonably priced and go to a worthy cause. ">http://www.cafepress.com/sequentialmerch http://marlasfriends.wordpress.com/ Thanks for your help.

L. Rebecca Harrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05762586558413597027noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4536804778385791289.post-65696229763679661412009-07-09T21:25:00.000-07:002009-07-16T11:25:57.982-07:00

I recently returned from the Kenyon Review Writers Workshop, which was a wonderful experience for me. The program included the nightly readings by both instructors and participants and it is now available for downloads. The link is below. http://www.kenyonreview.org/workshops-ww-readings.phpPlease follow the instructions on the page. You can listen to me reading on TUESDAY* night and during the

L. Rebecca Harrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05762586558413597027noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4536804778385791289.post-82313848530175030272009-05-17T21:46:00.000-07:002009-05-17T22:00:24.315-07:00

For a preview from my novel-in-progress, please check out University of LeVerne's Prism Review magazine. For a excerpt from my first novel, Fruit of the Seed, please check out West Valley College's Voices magazine.

L. Rebecca Harrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05762586558413597027noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4536804778385791289.post-638088032023907152009-01-17T15:37:00.000-08:002009-01-17T15:47:34.840-08:00

Thank you, God! I am so glad to finally be able to come out to hiding. For almost a decade, I have felt like an outcast, subject to humiliated and ridicule. I have disguised myself in conversations about reality television shows and relative merits of various celebrity pairings. If I pointed out that the portrayal of an Asian woman in the X-men felt, oh, slightly problematic because she had been

L. Rebecca Harrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05762586558413597027noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4536804778385791289.post-85169246845352457522009-01-12T10:58:00.000-08:002009-01-12T11:01:15.305-08:00

On Wednesday, I listened to sirens as they drove past my home, wail after wail throughout the night. Earlier, I heard the whisking blades of helicopters as they raced from airport pad to downtown. I went out into the chilly night, hands deep in my pockets and watched as they circled, like vultures over downtown. At the time, I had no idea of the destruction taking place there. I didn't have to

L. Rebecca Harrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05762586558413597027noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4536804778385791289.post-5317949611629256492008-11-12T09:16:00.000-08:002008-11-16T13:51:49.452-08:00

Frankly, I've never understood why anyone would want to be president. It seems a tireless and thankless job. Over the years of my life, as I have observed men who left the White House looking far older than when they arrived, I wondered why they did it. For years after their presidencies are over, the relative merits of their governing skills, their intelligence, their character and this illusive

L. Rebecca Harrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05762586558413597027noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4536804778385791289.post-35923582127155041562008-11-09T11:30:00.000-08:002008-11-15T08:45:41.415-08:00

It was with great interest that I read Charles Johnson's essay entitled "The End of the Black American Narrative" which was published recently in The American Scholar. In his essay, Johnson argues that the black narrative must begin to focus on "stories grounded in the present, leaving behind the painful history of slavery and its consequences." Johnson labels the body of works written by African

L. Rebecca Harrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05762586558413597027noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4536804778385791289.post-16327873054481737332008-11-09T08:58:00.000-08:002008-11-09T09:45:36.378-08:00

It is Sunday, November 9, 2008, five days after the most important historical event of my lifetime and I feel irrevocably changed. It is not simply that an African American man had been elected president, which many of us dreamed of but could not have imagined, nor is it that the country seems to have finally, after almost a decade, chosen hope over fear and light over darkness. It is I,

L. Rebecca Harrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05762586558413597027noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4536804778385791289.post-9002220660996298042008-08-19T14:35:00.000-07:002008-08-19T14:48:08.131-07:00

My first day in New York it rained -- a steady drizzle that lasted all day. Just as well...I had finally gotten my copy of that last of Harry Potter and intended to read it all day (and night). Nothing is better than reading a book on a rainy day. Besides I like the sound of cars driving through standing water and the soft humid air. I am happy that there are still books for young people to get

L. Rebecca Harrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05762586558413597027noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4536804778385791289.post-12873605857509458392008-01-27T14:09:00.000-08:002008-08-19T14:35:45.557-07:00

I spend most of the next day and evening looking out on a rainy landscape. The rain falls in steady consistency that is comforting. I sit in my little roomette. A part of me lamenting leaving Chicago, another part excited about New York and yet another part of me, thinking ahead, knowing that this is the last destination. In just a few days, I'll be going home, armed with more information than I

L. Rebecca Harrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05762586558413597027noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4536804778385791289.post-17471580515234867372007-10-28T09:17:00.000-07:002007-10-28T09:58:58.079-07:00

My uncle drops me off at Union Station and its back to the dungeons for me. (Why are all train stations in major metropolitan areas named Union Station?) It takes me a while to navigate the twisting bowels of the train station, which I realize is now a Frankensteinian labyrinth of the older train tracks, the Metra and the city's older system. Unlike the architecture above ground, this is an

L. Rebecca Harrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05762586558413597027noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4536804778385791289.post-69277870424291099502007-10-21T13:15:00.000-07:002007-10-21T14:47:06.416-07:00

My last day in Chicago and I realize that I will miss it. I get up early; though, I still feel disappointed in myself and my feet still hurt, I want to be out and walking the streets and I love cities, like New York and San Francisco, that seemed to be made for walking. I've always loved the early mornings because its the time when you believe that all those things you plan to do are really going

L. Rebecca Harrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05762586558413597027noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4536804778385791289.post-15797341897734566902007-10-14T09:15:00.000-07:002007-10-21T13:23:18.224-07:00

Getting back to the hotel took up the rest of the day. My feet were swollen; I was hungry, hurting in body and spirit. When I returned to my room, I simply put my feet up and my head down. The trip wasn't quite over yet, but I was leaving the next night on the train for New York without getting what I came for; so, for all intents and purposes, it might as well be.A friend of my sister's, who

L. Rebecca Harrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05762586558413597027noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4536804778385791289.post-26690729827870728752007-08-15T16:53:00.000-07:002007-08-15T17:11:24.989-07:00

(Explaining the Blues – Ma Rainey) Before I even began my trip a number of things were running through my mind -- typical for a writer who is still gestating a novel to digest and regurgitate ideas and images endlessly to see what they are made of. On that platform, for the next hour, the only thing I had to chew on was my own thoughts. I listened to and thought about the blues.In Blues People,

L. Rebecca Harrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05762586558413597027noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4536804778385791289.post-24695030512452021222007-08-06T23:14:00.000-07:002007-08-07T00:09:35.687-07:00

(Whatta You Gonna Do? – Louis Armstrong) How could I screw this up? I planned this entire trip just to get here. How did I miss this? Why didn’t I call? Because I had been checking the website.Now I was certain that this was a mistake. Obviously, the heat and the lack of food had diminished my hearing, so I called back (If anyone is recalling what my dad said about insanity, just shut up). I get

L. Rebecca Harrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05762586558413597027noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4536804778385791289.post-38366486066634329182007-08-03T14:59:00.000-07:002007-08-03T16:25:09.105-07:00

I apologize for the delay. Here's Part Two of the Chicago Blues Shuffle and you might need this, see link below...(What a Difference a Day Makes – Dinah Washington) The next morning I woke, ready to get started. I figured if I timed everything correctly, I could hit two museums – The Pullman Porter Museum and the DuSable Museum of African American History. I knew that I have quite a way to travel

L. Rebecca Harrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05762586558413597027noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4536804778385791289.post-7759803006746200082007-07-24T18:56:00.000-07:002007-07-26T22:53:15.740-07:00

Well, the story of my visit to Chicago is like a classic blues tune, full of high hopes, disappointment and eventual redemption. Since I had filled my iPod with music by Bessie Smith, Ma Rainey, Billie Holiday, Duke Ellington and Louis Armstrong, (for reasons I’ll explain later) I decided that it would be fitting if this particular entry had a soundtrack. So, ladies and gentlemen, the Chicago

L. Rebecca Harrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05762586558413597027noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4536804778385791289.post-8366972360549703032007-07-23T06:26:00.000-07:002007-07-24T18:47:39.532-07:00

I am now leaving the state of Colorado and it was far more beautiful than I thought it would be. I hope to come back and take this ride again in the winter when the snow covers the canyon walls. My photography might even be improving. (Maybe not…) The train pulls in, just behind Coors Stadium so close you could catch foul balls, to downtown Denver, which is active and attractive with restaurants

L. Rebecca Harrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05762586558413597027noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4536804778385791289.post-31866553306337204672007-07-16T22:14:00.001-07:002007-07-16T22:31:40.710-07:00

I don’t know what I need to know yet. Well, that’s not exactly true. I want to learn what I can’t learn from a book. Researching a time you never lived in and then trying to recreate it in fiction is an imprecise endeavor because you can know all the facts and still not understand the time. A reader will know that you don’t know. It’s not about slathering a lot of historic details into the

L. Rebecca Harrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05762586558413597027noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4536804778385791289.post-22499637152774955372007-07-14T12:19:00.000-07:002007-07-16T22:38:37.969-07:00

I left for Oakland’s Jack London Station at about 5:30 in the morning. As I rode to the station, I surprised to see that one or two more new condominium developments had been completed. I ride by this area on the freeway probably daily and yet the developments keep popping up before I realize – a sign of economic development or gentrification, depending upon how much money one has in one’s

L. Rebecca Harrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05762586558413597027noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4536804778385791289.post-40021017355983803152007-07-02T23:47:00.000-07:002007-07-05T18:42:44.357-07:00

Only a few more days before I leave and I find myself reflecting on the varied responses I've received from people when I tell them about the trip. Responses range from the plaintive (Why would you do that? It will take sooo long) to concerned (You better watch yourself) to the envious ( a slight sigh and ohhh really) and it occurs to me that the responses themselves are anthropological

L. Rebecca Harrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05762586558413597027noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4536804778385791289.post-91491055556043407622007-06-22T15:55:00.000-07:002007-06-26T08:01:21.507-07:00

Two weeks before I begin my trip and I feel anxious and unprepared. I realize that there is so much more for me to do and perhaps I need to be in Chicago for far longer than I planned. I have to remind myself that this is the beginning -- the beginning of long research process that will last until the book is done. As usual, I have my doubts about whether or not I am up to the task of writing the

L. Rebecca Harrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05762586558413597027noreply@blogger.com0