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Writers Spotlight - Shaela M. Phillips

 

 

 

Soul Pitt Interviews Shaela M. Phillips

CEO, Meeting of the Minds Publications, published author and poet

By Bonita Lee 06/2005

 

Mission Statement for the Meeting of the Minds Publications

To publish novice writers, giving them encouragement and inspiration.

 

Behind this unique organization is indeed an inspirational young lady, Shaela M. Phillips. Who I first met at a local open mic event, when she approached me business card in hand, asking me to contact her in regards to discussing her organization publishing a chapbook of my poems.

 

The first distinctive characteristic I noticed about her was the enthusiasm in her smile and the excitement in her voice when she spoke about writing and poetry. I immediately thought to myself, this must be my lucky day. Later I reversed that thought to it's more like a lucky evening for the Soul Pitt readers. Soon after the moment I met Shaela, I knew I had to interview her to be our next featured author in the Writers Spotlight.

 

She is someone, I feel who has the drive to become one of Pittsburgh's up and coming young trailblazers in the small print and publishing arena. I also knew without a doubt, our readers, especially our contributing writers would want to hear more about her. Let's visit the passionate world of words of Shaela Phillips, CEO, published author, poet and all around great lady.

 

I've been writing since attending Belmar Elementary School. One of our fifth grade class assignments was to create a time capsule using short stories and poetry. At home, I remembered my mother had an old truck filled with writings and snippets written by my Uncle Bunny. After school I went home and dove into the old truck reading through all his old writings. The more I read his words the more I felt the same creative form flowing within me. From there grew my love of writing. With each following year my goal was to always improve with my writing.

 

The first major acknowledgement of my writing came a year later in Sixth Grade when I entered and won the annual African American Writing Contest sponsored by Mellon Bank. The very next year I won a poetry contest and the winning poem ended up being utilized by The City of Pittsburgh, in their Proclamation of Peace Day event.

 

At the age of 19, I wrote my first book, which included poems I had written in high school and newer ones a couple years after graduation. While in the process of publishing this book I noticed there weren't many venues available for beginners writers. In my personal opinion most new writers had few options in publication either you self-publish or you had to be extremely good. Being extremely good meant, writing within the structure of whatever was most likely to be accepted by the large houses, which did not cover me as I enjoy writing in a free style verse. After writing my first book I kept perfecting my writing style. In 2003 I, again, choose the self-publishing route this time with iUniverse, for my second book titled Hips of Evolution.

 

My latest book 7 Breaths in Yearning, the title meaning, seven days of the week you yearn for something new in your life. This book is so exciting to me. Every time I look at the cover, I get excited. It came out so beautiful. The poems included in this book were written during the rough years of my marriage. But writing the book was an inspiration to me, I bared much of myself, including what it meant growing up in Pittsburgh, being involved in a bad marriage at such a young age and being an emerging author.

 

I asked Shaela if she has participated in any of the local open mic events.

 

I have participated in some, but I am more of a book writer. I'm learning the difference between spoken words, which I feel is more of an action packed form of poetry versus written word which is more of a laid back, elongated verse. I enjoy revealing the intricate beauty and subtle impact of the written word. Poetry has many styles you may choose to express yourself. I receive my greatest inspirations by looking over the situations in my life and weaving them into a narrative verse. I am more of a narrator, a storyteller.

 

Early on I found my voice through poetry. This voice led me through years of an abusive marriage. I would write of experiences I felt I couldn't share with anyone, not even with my Mother. My inner voice also helped me through middle and high school where I was picked on, bullied and talked about. During this time my poetry allowed me to talk about the girls who talked about me.

 

One great thing about being labeled a writer early on, in school everyone knew who I was, I was the poet. They still have my trophy in on display at CAPA. From the start I have committed to surround myself with poetry and written word. I started working towards my future goal of creating my own organization catering to writers.

 

"Shaela tell us what actions have you taken, and are taking to achieve this goal?"

 

In 2001 I started off with my own poetry magazine, Meeting of the Minds Journal, with five contributing poets. To my surprise soon after publishing the magazine my name was out there and I was happily overwhelmed with submissions. The magazine, through word of mouth, had become world-renowned, we received submissions, nationally from each region of the United States and internationally, which included South Africa and Australia. With those submissions we received a vast number of repeaters with more submissions. I felt this was happening because I represented an organization that actually cared about the contributing writers.

 

The magazine was opened to all types of writing styles; we gave everyone a chance to be heard. The organization whole-heartedly embraced the writing diversity of those who contributed. We treated each individual as an important and creative component that molded the magazine as a whole, a success.

 

In addition to the written submissions, we also offered a place to display emerging artists, those who created beauty with their fingers; using brushes, pencils, cameras any other form of art.

 

By 2004 I had become more involved in the publishing world. Through my research I learned that less than 3% of the manuscripts submitted are actually published, most are rejected. I asked myself, what could I do to assist new writers in search of publication? The best solution I decided would be to offer services in publishing chapbooks, and there came the birth of the Meeting of Minds Publications.

 

A chapbook is a 5.5" x 8.5" staple bound book that covers 20 to 60 poems. We decided to offer a scholarship of ten (10) chapbooks giving everyone the opportunity to be published. We offer services to the writer which includes creating a website, book cover design, marketing of their chapbook, including utilizing the Meeting of Minds Publications website as a venue for their book's promotion and to be purchase directly from the site.

 

The writer keeps the rights to his work and if he is picked up by a larger publishing house, there is no problem with the republishing of the book. Included in the contract package, we inserted addition information for the author on how to apply for a copyright, how to order an ISBN number, if they choose and tips on searching for an agent. We also detail to the author the important role a chapbook plays in assisting with the promotion of their work.

 

The chapbook is an easy and cost effective way to get your name and samples of your work out to your audience. The chapbook can easily be transported to literary events and they have a customer friendly inexpensive price.

 

We offer a unique service that separates us from the usual chapbook publishers. Instead of focusing on publishing only poetry chapbooks, we offer printing chapbooks of short stories, personal journals, holiday gift lists, collection of sketches. With such a wide variety of uses, you will find some chapbooks themes could be a source of an excellent fund raising idea or as gifts.

 

The first ten (10) chapbooks are a gift from the Meeting of the Minds Publications. The author is able to reorder more books up to a year such in groups of 15, 25, 50 or 60 for a nominal fee. Authors can also direct sales to the website where books may also be purchased. We pay the author royalties on each book sale from the site.

 

Inside the submission package we include questions to be completed by the author. Questions ranging from what do you find unique about your book, have you published before, if so, where. We ask for a short bio. As we try to find out as much about the author as possible to assist with the promotion of their chapbook. Selective answers could be used for a variety of book promotions, such as a Press Release, Author Bio, and other promotional needs.

 

Today I received an email from an author who we published and she states how happy and pleased she is with the book. She was thrilled with the quality of the paper, the formatting, outside and inside book design. Her positive response confirmed to me, I have found my Blessing. This is what I was called to do.

 

Meeting of the Minds Publications has brought me in contact with so many creative minds and I am thankful to be able to help them in reaching their dream of being published. In the future I would like the organization to be in a position to bring urban literary culture awareness to Pittsburgh, in collaboration with all genres of writers and bring them together under one networking organization.

 

At this time we are researching and applying for grants that will assist in our mission to reach more writers and help them in the publication of their works.

 

For more information on publishing your chapbook and more about the services Meeting of the Minds Publications offers please click here www.chapbookenterprises.com.

 

 

The Interview might have ended, but Shaela and I continued to discuss her future ideas which would move Meeting of the Minds Publications to a new level in the publishing world. When you meet with her, you will also experience the enthusiasm that spills out of her when she speaks of helping others and her love of writing.

 

This morning I received an email which spoke of the lack of Black poets being published in the U.K. Read the comments by Ms Moore: "There are not many mainstream publishers willing to publish poetry by black authors. Even when they do, they usually turn to established black American writers like Alice Walker and Maya Angelou."

 

But what caught my eye was her next comment: She said: "I have a genuine desire to see the creative work of black women expressed in our own terms."

 

This one strong statement reminded me of the vibe I received from Shaela, she is totally immersed and committed to helping women and men writers of all genres, plus artists by having a place for them to connect with the resources to publish their works.

 

I would like to thank Shaela for taking the time to share a little about herself and about her organization with our readers. We look forward to hearing great happenings from her.

 

                  

Shaela M. Phillips  

                           

 

loving your jones

      

for you, I dream of us

on soft blankets of grass

kissing your pucker lips of how do you dos’

my submission seeks your authority

in a dull framed world

I want ancient love

I wanna love you from the blues of my ancestors

Down to the toes of their arrival

I have felt your emptiness while lying at your chest

Kissed your face anticipating to the connect dots

Trapped in the air ducts

I became a reincarnated student of Picasso

brushing my fingers in the strands of your arrival

I seek your smile

can

                  i

                              press my nipples on chest

while moistening you neck with my kiss

loving your

                  j

                  o

                  n

                  e

                  s

the essence of you

your grunt sings melodies to my sigh

               if I give you my heart

will you scatter your witness

               will you embrace this ms. as your woman

can I show you the freak in me

               with out you taking me too seriously

               let me fall on my knees and work my body

      

for you, I dream of us

a bon voyage, I record thoughts of

sweetly pressed close to me

I will show you my spirit

when you emerge

               its calypso, baby

riding on high cloud 9

I sit speechless

               wanting you to eat my sonnets

wanting to lick your freestyle

               and together we rap ourselves in poetry

you can take my tongue

indulgent in sugary smudge smiles

like chubby girls running to the store for now or laters

double dippin’ in lick a maids

      

I want to love you, still

               after you shake of your memories

remove your stains of love

               replace it with the fantastic moves of you

spin my flesh inside out

I am dreaming for you, for us

 

*  *  *

       

Daughter

      

if i were born in the 70s, i would have been

a revolutionary baby, high fists shouting for black power,

sportin’ cat eye glasses in pick-me afros, never to add-in a perm

i feel the airstreams stale creased in my eyelids,

sublimed messages, america trying to tame my mind,

i am at the border checking lice in dreams

      

i am ready to enter the grace-lands of america,

the cadence adventure echoing in ruined mucks

past brownstones, corner shops hanging carcasses

stenches of drained meat, paralyzing my nostrils

upward in mobility of small mom-and-pop stores,

still existing to suck what’s left out corporate america

all over the Hill

      

i am led by light-stashed-smog up against the city

words-fall-asleep-in-the wind-tapped, in angry pits

then, as if, my name, unhindered-nonexistent

i am stuck force feed in an open world pushed

through reality, reformed in between rushing cars

i pause--

      

on PAT buses we Pittsburghers rush to find a seat, relax

shoulders tense away from sun-warmth lingering

 “We don’t even know who are our leaders are any more”

two older women marinated in Ben-Gay speak loosely

      

time warps,

in between the rally sessions at the Urban League pulling

together secret meetings on how to vote, if you’re black

we are collected by our city from lax people slow to

see the city change; i am coated with equal signs,

puzzled in fragments, torn wishing to be invisible

amidst bare junctions, empty handed, here passing

flyers-for what I believe in, came out of mounds,

where the clock ticks away my possibilities

      

rushed in debris of empty tomorrows, while

i am standing on floors where sit-ins happen,

and the Honorable Martin Luther King gave his speech,

i realize my cry is only a soft murmur calling for a

change-i can’t always hold the rain, suck dry fate,

restore, let my fingertips be like magic wands

      

i quench my thirst in iambic bows contorted,

rooted in the dusty core, be re-titled,

the daughter of America,

i am fuming in resentment,

locked in bottoms of shackles,

left by father not knowing ME,

trying to find out who i am,

the dream-seeker, soul searcher

trudging

      

trading places, where the peace has a long-standing

mockery, blemished in sunken shoving crowds,

drugged out mothers hiding crack in-between their titties,

chalk lines cradling corpses never to wash out the sidewalks

      

i live in a redefined America

where there is a suspect on every corner

where children play in stolen shopping buggies

consuming ramen noodles every day of the week

calling women bitches,

throwing rocks at buses,

to savvy their way into another statistic

another ghetto-gangsta budding from the concrete

      

we hide in fear of being associated,

we don’t talk to cops in doorways,

we stand puffing on cigarettes

looking for action in-between blinds

we are immune to the shots,

and the politicians knocking

wanting our vote to win the election.

 

* * *

       

The Colors of My Love

      

      

I have been a believer of Nubian gods

Promising me that they will

Give me the world with a twist

Of a finger-my soul weighs a

thousand pounds of madness--

Walking-believing that they could

Give me what I lost in between the war

Balance the sun when the atmosphere

Isn’t paying attention

      

I have nodded my head after

My lips were taped shut, in the guff

of my throat, I choked on believing

in their secrets still extending my hand

at their welcoming table, yielding to their

demand I became bra-less

      

My whipping wasn’t by lynchers

But on top of bedspreads

Holding head boards, later asking

them to love my spirit

they bleed refuge through sutures

the empty feelings where the

colors on my palette became diluted

with one touch of a brush

      

I pushed back my tattered remains

Trying to erase time-exhausted,

Later it came back with a vengeance, it bathed

In a orchestra of democratic voices,

it pulled me up by the sleeves, telling me to wake up,

while shaking sleeping babies and holding them to death,

It blew its way right to my face, and fought for

Me to comprehend-used

But, I not bitter…

      

The colors of my love have mended songs

that flow through out my flesh

It has categorized father-as being my

First failed relationship, it has given me dittos

of late night phone calls I begged for someone to love me

my middle showed gravity empty from the rejects

of never receiving a gift, they wanted my kiss

but never wanted my soul.

* * *