Even in these changing times, you'll never see a black woman in a Robin Hood movie because (a) she'd probably be more concerned about keeping her hair from getting wet than being rescued and (b) she sure as hell wouldn't have anybody calling her "Maid," whether her name was Marion or not.
Flashing Lights cribs Robin Hood's vibe except she's not so much giving to the poor as to herself. It's a tongue-in-cheek tale of a young Black-American woman who impulsively steals a bag of drug money from a dealer. The question is not how can she return it before he finds out, but rather how to put the blame on someone else before her Robin Hood plans for escape fall flat.
Imagine Flashing Lights as a hybrid of Thelma and Louise and Waiting to Exhale as if narrated by Chris Rock.
Not long ago, when I was a handsome black man working at a bookstore, I worked right by the "URBAN TABLE" (home of Bootie Bang, Slap a Hoe and Slut It Up). The expected black girls flocked, but I'd even see white ladies checking the table out to see what the fuss was about. And, when they thought no one was looking, they'd slip a copy of Oh No Yu Didn't, Part 6 or Chanel My Ass under their copy of Jennifer Weiner's Good in Bed.
I decided then and there it was my mission to shamelessly bridge the divide and offer something gonzo enough everybody could love. Is that change we can believe in? You betcha!
That's Flashing Lights.
I've written for Publicity Magazine, Hill Review, Snap, The O-Town Writers Network, and the Island anthology. Having worked at several major radio and television outlets and one of the nation's largest advertising clubs, I have tremendous access to low to no-cost advertising for my books.
Flashing Lights will not teach Martha Stewart to do the "whassup" nod…but she would likely swipe this book from Oprah's coffee table. If you would like to take a look at Flashing Lights please feel free to contact me.