New Novel finished, Other news

Hi world!

I finished my newest book, editing and all, and now I’m shopping it around to agents. I’d like to get this book out to a wider audience than the last, so I’ll take my time finding the best venue to do that. I’m very excited to be getting some feedback and interest — I can’t wait to share this story and its characters with you all!

In other news, I am a semi-finalist in the Spring 2017 Screencraft Short Film Fund! Screenplays aren’t generally my medium, but every now and then a story comes to me that makes the most sense as a screenplay (same way some stories come through best as a short story, novella, or novel), and the one I submitted came out as one immediately.  Not sure how far into the competition this short will get, but I’m proud as hell to get this far! Cross your fingers for me — the quarterfinals are coming up.

I’ll keep this blog updated as I learn more, and of course if my novel inches any closer to publication.

Keep reading, keep writing, keep your head up,

C K Stackhouse

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Don’t Give a Fuck February

Well, hey World! Long time, no speak!

I’d like to shed light on a personal holiday of mine called Don’t Give a Fuck February (or Fuck Off February, depending on how combative you are). It isn’t a well-known holiday, not so much anyone outside of my circle of friends, but it’s an important one.

Did you know Black folk are fucking tired? That every single day of slogging through the world feels like a crippling burden? That it’s African American History Month? We should be jumping with glee — it’s our own month! The shortest month, but…

Speaking of African American History month, why in the hell is it February? I’d like to see the notes from the meeting that designated February our month, I mean, what were the justifications? Maybe the fact the Martin Luther King’s birthday is in that month?

Gotcha, folks. That shit’s in January. But January’s 31 whole days. So I seriously can’t see the rationale behind designating the month African Americans’ besides the fact that February is the shortest month, and therefore the shortest period of time this country could hold deference to the people they enslaved and then legally fucked over for centuries.

Month Designation Panel: How bout February? It’s the winter! Crisp air, fires in the hearth…

Black Delegation: We hate the cold. You know that.

Panel: C’mon, ice skating, hockey, good stuff!

Black Delegation: Massive side eye.

Panel: Look, guys, we gave away all the good months. At least you got something. Latino Heritage Month isn’t even its own month. You guys’ll take February and be grateful to get it.

Black Delegation: Yeah, we mad appreciative.

So I was one of only very few Black students at the Catholic schools I went to kindergarten through high school. Black History Month was a period of increased self-consciousness, as this was when teachers delved into the darkest corridor of American history and stole glances at me as they weaved their way through the curriculum (ahem, yet another instance in which the Catholic Church did nothing to condemn atrocity).  I hated this month. Now, there were documentaries on TV reminding us of what we had been through, and during the beautiful 8-year reprieve while Obama was president at least we had something positive to end these dregs through hell with. Now, with Professor Cheeto at the helm, we’ve returned to just feeling cast aside, demonized, and to be real, exhausted. This struggle is all the time, and I get THE MOST TIRED during February.

So for me, over time, during February, when triggers are at their utmost (do we need The Color Purple, Frutivale Station, History Channel and PBS documentaries and, AND Roots revival all in one month??), I’ve gotten to a calm, zen, quiet place where I just don’t give a fuck. For one month. ONE month. Dude, it’s like all the time and I just need one month to myself.

We get guilty, minorities and women I mean, when we step away for a moment. Well, don’t! One goddamn month, people! White activists will tell you that one can’t afford to take any time away, especially in this climate. Well you know what? It’s IMPERATIVE for minorities to take time away to combat fatigue. It’s different for people of color in this current climate, and there have to be spaces for reprieve.

So I proffer February as Don’t Give a Fuck month for African Americans. Colored People can look forward to this month to decompress, reboot, bolster for the year ahead. Every year. So for a month: voting rights in peril? Don’t give a fuck. Megalomaniac in office of PUSA? Don’t give a fuck. Beyonce having twins? I absolutely give a fuck, why didn’t you tell me sooner????

So, this is my month off. Seriously. I’m tired, I’m chillin’ and if you’re looking for a black chick that has two shits to rub together, get back at me in March.


The Black Girl in the Room

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Snowmageddon 2016 — Here Comes the Sun

The storm broke last night (or early this morning) at about Midnight. The snow came down continuously until then, then the flakes became finer and finer, and finally let up. And this morning, the sun’s out.

So, now comes my least favorite part: digging out. But with the sun overhead, I might even enjoy it a little bit. I’ll pace myself. Digging my car out will be the first task.


After that, I’ll dig out the driveway, and after some warm tea and a sit down, get out and clear the walkway up to the house and the rest of the drive.

Trying not to think of all of it at once, as it’s pretty overwhelming. Looks to be over two feet of snow out there, and the longer the sun’s out, the slushier and wetter it gets, and therefore heavier and harder to move. There are times when living alone has its downsides.

But upside: Mentally, still good! Made it through! The snow made some awesome icicles and snow patterns, the sun’s out, no one’s hurt (as far as I know), and the cleanup’s about to go down.


Hope Snowmageddon treated everyone else okay; from me, it’s an over-and-out.

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Snowmageddon 2016 — STILL continues

Holey moley. The snow keeps coming. It’s supposed to end sometime tonight, and be clear outside tomorrow. I hope so, cuz digging out is certainly going to take a couple days, and a girl’s gotta get to work. Even a girl driving a 2002 Honda Civic.

Here’s some pics from about 5 PM, Saturday. You can see, if you look closely, the righteous icicle action on the neighboring home, my car beneath that hump of snow, and the clearly southerly proclivity of the storm, tugging snow to the left on the green banister of my porch:

Mental state: Mellow. Did laundry, did some cleaning, feeling pretty good.

Cheers to this storm coming to close tonight, though. I’ll be sleeping on the couch like I did last night, watching the snow blow by the street lamps and create drifts over the ornamental grass. If I can drift off, that is. I feel a little like a kid, too excited to sleep on Christmas night. I think it’s that weird snow-day mentality. So exciting. Only less exciting because you have to dig yourownself out instead of your folks getting out there with their shovels. Drag.

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Snowmageddon 2016 — it continues

Well, it’s still snowing. Plus the winds have kicked in, so it’s hard to see out there. Most people (and animals, apparently) are staying inside; haven’t seen hide nor hair of anything today.

Mental state: Tired and bored. Didn’t sleep much last night, but spent a lot of time looking out the windows at the snow pouring down.

These pics are from when I woke up around 8 AM:

So good point: I’m still alive!

Not so good: I think I’m gonna be stuck here a while.

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Snowmageddon 2016 — David Snowie

It’s been a long time since I posted to this blog, but Snowmageddon 2016 is as good a reason as any to get back to the keyboard (if only for the reason that I’m snowed the hell in).

I’ll post pics from the porch of my adorable cottage house, and let you know of my mental well-being. Should be said, I super hate sitting still. And being snowed in is a nightmare.

Mental state:

Currently not so bad. Drank some rum, took a long walk before the snow started, and now watching weird daytime stuff on TV.

This was around 3:30 pm:




And this around 5:30:



So far, so good.

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National Museum of African Art

On Sunday I decided to swing by the National Museum of African Art in DC. My memories of this place was of it being a tiny little hole-in-the-wall compared to the larger art museums surrounding it (like the Freer/Sackler art galleries and the Hirshorn, both of which I stopped by on Sunday as well). Now, I’d say it definitely isn’t inferior in size, so much as attendance. Despite the museum being connected to the Asian Art museum on sub-level 3 (which has a delightful display currently, which I will discuss in a moment), there were about 150% fewer people in the African Art museum compared to Freer/Sackler. I can’t say why, perhaps just less interest in Africa as a region — the far east has always held large appeal with westerners — or that it was the final day at Freer/Sackler of an exhibition of works by Kiyochika (a super-interesting exhibition, I must say).


Kiyochika, Master of the Night. Ghostly paintings with intricate detail.

Regardless, the African Art museum was blissfully quiet, peaceful and gorgeous. The gardens surrounding it on the ground level, and the atrium providing sunlight all the way down to the third sub-level is well thought-out and calming. Currently on that third sub-level is an exhibit called Visions from the Forests, with art and artifacts from Liberia and Sierra Leone, and the gallery space has peaceful forest sounds playing throughout. The exhibit is set up magnificently, and the artifacts are so varied. Some remind me very much of Polynesian art and sculpture, some even remind me of Norse artifacts. The exhibit made me wonder how similar ideas could float among many historic peoples who never came into direct contact with one another; I’ve never been much into history, but I’m sure an art historian would have a field day connecting those dots for me.


Coming into the exhibition hall for Visions from the Forests.

With such a well-curated and thoughtful exhibit, I really wonder why more people aren’t visiting this hidden gem, so I’m taking the opportunity to tell you all, the National Museum of African Art is dope, and it’s right down the street from the Hirshorn. Just get on the garden path or Independence Ave., walk past a big, castle-looking Smithsonian building, and you’re there. Stop by only to visit on your way to the Freer/Sackler building, if you want (they have the exact same layout, so think of it as practice). Check out the Visions from the Forests exhibit now until August 17th.

The National Museum of African Art is what’s up.

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