My Man

In the movie American Gangster, Denzel Washington plays drug kingpin Frank Lucas during the 1970’s heroine holocaust in New York City. There’s a scene when he’s speaking to a rival, and then to a dirty cop, and when the conversation comes to an end he says “My Man”. Cool, jazzy, with a warm smile, even if the conversation didn't go well.

This week I had been reaching out to distributors, companies that sell “Urban Fiction” to find out how I could get #No Loose Ends to join the ranks of Wahida Clark and the books by Tripple Crown Publications. One of my calls landed at the offices of a real cool brother who coincidently happened to be in New York City as well. I could go into a rant about how hard it is to make phone calls from here, but that’s a whole other blog. Just take my word for it when I say connecting with the outside world is tuff for a million reasons but we persevere and overcome.

Anyway, we make it through to a live voice after about 5 minutes, and the person I needed to speak with was on another line. So we relayed messages back and forth, me through my patient team of supporters, and him through his polite office lady with that hot New York accent (I can’t wait to call back).  But the upside is the brother that runs the company finally gets on the phone, and I launch into my 30 second elevator pitch. The downside is as soon as he starts to respond, the digital operator on my end, announces we have one minute remaining. The brother is like “Alright Ramsey, send me a copy of your book and I’ll let you know what I think, and go ahead and leave your contact info in there so we can get back to you”.

I can’t lie, I was almost grateful at just being offered to send someone a copy of my book. Then as we were about to hang up my eagerness or maybe the hunger in my voice relayed that I wasn’t quite done with my pitch, or that I was really desperate to talk to someone and get some kind of direction or instructions, or maybe his ear was trained to recognize the plight of a fellow entrepreneur in distress. Whichever the case as we were about to hang up, he said “And if you need to tell me anything else put it in a letter with your book”.

“Alright, will do” I replied, overjoyed that this brother sounded authentic and actually interested in my work.

His last words on that phone call before the phone wench ended the call…… “My Man” just like in the movie, but not with malice. It was warm and real like the love in the 70’s. I could see big afros with soul brotha picks, bell bottoms and matching jackets with funky colored argyle patterns. But all the internal nostalgia aside, we hung up and I wasn’t able to shake the invitation I heard in the brother’s voice. He could have been jaded and reluctant like some successful people or even some of my exes sound when we speak. He could have been true to our projections of New Yorkers, he could have rude or mean just because, but he wasn’t. He was mellow and my every attempt to get into another project wouldn’t quiet the urgings in my head to call back. I felt like I could have got the stalker tag, or that I should have been content with the small progress and I was risking it by sounding too thirsty or desperate. But I overrode my own roadblocks and we called the brother back and even more shocking than my gall, he took the call.

I just told him “Sorry sir for taking up anymore of your time, but I’m in prison and it’s a rarity to get information much less critical or accurate details in this business. I’m just going on instincts here, but if you wouldn’t mind could I ask you some questions?” And he said “sure young brother, I understand your plight, go ahead. What’s on your mind?”

For the next 30 minutes I grilled the brother and became a sponge on every topic I could think to inquire about, from the presentation of my website and its layout, to having a contact page inside my actual book, which I would have never thought about. The conversation cost $5 but the information I received was priceless.

In the end, I may or have made a new business contact. But even if #No Loose Ends doesn’t end up on his “New This Month” list, there is a phone number and a real dude at the other end that’ll take a look at my next offering.

This whole episode, in my humble opinion speaks to the power of persistence, and one other thing, learn to listen to your instincts, sometimes the universe is trying to tell you something. Most walls and roadblocks are mental, stop thinking about it.

R. Venner