What’s Jack up to? He’s having a grand time making the DH walk around the block numerous times for nothing. Oh, the joys of having a dog.

So I tried to watch the Oprah and Eckhart Tolle webcast class for A NEW EARTH, really, I did. What a time I had. My laptop kept freezing so I went downstairs to my desktop and was never able to get a picture there. All I ended up getting were broken sound bytes. I’ll try today to see if I can watch the replay on Oprah.com. Did anyone get to watch?

I did get to watch The Royals special on abc last night. I thought it was pretty good. I love all that inner workings stuff. A really liked the coverage of Queen Elizabeth. It was great to see her feisty nature at her age. The woman is a powerful force.

So it’s happened again. Another book is being pulled from the shelves because of charges that the supposed memoir is false. I’ve got some Deja Frey going on here.

The New York Times said, “In “Love and Consequences,” a critically acclaimed memoir published last week, Margaret B. Jones wrote about her life as a half-white, half-Native American girl growing up in South-Central Los Angeles as a foster child among gang-bangers, running drugs for the Bloods. “

FYI. Margaret B Jones’ real name is Margaret Seltzer. Seltzer now admits that it was all made up. What? How uncool is that? And I have to admit I’m a little mad that she choose to exploit what is largely a minority problem in this country. No, I wouldn’t be as mad if she just called the book what it was, fiction. But mad I am.

Ms. Seltzer said, “For whatever reason, I was really torn and I thought it was my opportunity to put a voice to people who people don’t listen to,” Ms. Seltzer said. “I was in a position where at one point people said you should speak for us because nobody else is going to let us in to talk. Maybe it’s an ego thing — I don’t know. I just felt that there was good that I could do and there was no other way that someone would listen to it.” Really? I’m not buying it.

What a shame that in order to get a book deal authors feel they have to make-up life stories. Part of me feels like it’s just awful that someone would lie like that and I wonder how come they couldn’t write the same book, call it fiction and have it published. Well, I think the answer to that is that it would probably never be published. Everything nowadays needs a ‘hook’ and often times it’s not just about the story, but about the personality behind the story. People (I guess myself included) want to gawk into other’s lives.

Was this always the way? There is plenty of great fiction that reads like memoirs and have stood up over the years. Books like: Alice Walker’s The Color Purple and one of my favorites Terry McMillan’s Mama are examples.

What are your thoughts?

Best,
Kwana

Quotes thanks to NYT Photos thanks to MSN search