Skip to content

Meet Gilberto Javier Perez

Aka Big Cuban. An opportunist always ready to take his game to another level.

An East Harlem hustler under the tutelage of Bolito, an old friend of Rawley Ballor. Not in the coke game but the heroin game.

Born in Cuba, and bought to American pre-Mariel Cuban boat exodus, A 4th-gen tobacco son of Torcedores. Big Cuban’s Hacienda in Miami grows the best tobacco in the county.

A strong believer of the Santeria religion, who bases all his decisions from blessings of Santeria priests. But, there’s always that one time when things don’t go as planned.

Writing 001

As a beginner writer working on finding my voice creating stories, I’m compelled further into the writing process each passing day. My network is growing. Met so many fascinating authors all at different phases of their writing career. One could only imagine their jubilation when they held their first self-published/published book. A dream, that starts with an idea, then an opening sentence, followed by a paragraph, and before you know it, a story is birthed.

As I’m experiencing, writing is a process with many aspects. I’m not talking about the coveted route of submission to one of the Big Six publishing houses. By all means, once my writing reaches its crest, a submission I will go. At this time, I’ll put the necessary work in to develop the craft of writing.

Beyond the writing, a writer needs an audience. Someone needs to enjoy the fruits of our labor. That means promoting. Building a fan base. The only way I know, is by getting the idea into as many peoples heads as possible. I’m working on as many beta readers as allowed. I started Character Biographies on my blog so readers can gain some insight. Thread each characters attributes and story together, one can get a better understanding of the story.

Everyday before I begin the writing process , I work the full World of Harlemville in my mind. In any situation before you begin to work, thoughts and ideas regarding a general direction or path should be pondered. It provides a clear cut direction allowing a flow of words, and possibly eliminating writer’s block. Let the words flow. Let the story create momentum and follow the path, altering not editing as you see fit. It’s not work, but a labor of love.

Writers write…., Farewell til forever…

Ahmad C . Washington

Harlemville….

You will meet Big Cuban next week, I had to get Writing 001 off my chest…

Meet Makenzie Williams

Aka Fatboy, stricken with an unknown illness at the tender age of 8, this young boy in the grown man’s body at 14, continued through life unaffected, that is until the streets called his name at saw the untimely demise of his best friend and partner’s older brother.

The death would trigger a release of the neurological disorder that has remained hidden. Now, due to the stresses of organizing a drug crew, The Enterprise crew’s rise in Harlem’s gritty underworld would lead to recurring episodes of dizzy spells and partial loss of motor functions.

Some people look at the world for what it is and some people look at the world the way they would like to see it. Fatboy shapes the world to his whim with a knack for placing his people at the right place at the precise moment.

Now a solid 6’4 280 lbs, and protege, a dangerous, next level power move against his mentor proved fortunate, with unpredictable consequences. Bodies are stacking, while profits are climbing. How long can this last?

Writer’s Write…., Farewell til forever…

Ahmad C. Wakanda

Harlemville

Harlemville

I will resume blog next week, to introduce Makenzie Williams aka Fatboy…

Writer’s Write.., Farewell til forever…

Harlemville – Excerpt

The Willie Jeep backfired loudly, billowing black smoke on every cough. A Vietnam-era throwback Winston would have loved to drive. But for Fatboy the vehicle was a disappointment. A piece of shit. A miserable hot dirt crawler under a dry rotted canvas. No shock absorbers nor air conditioning, or so he was told by Hector it had air but it acts up if the outside temperature rises above 80 degrees. 

The dry Florida air constantly seeped through the loose plastic sheets that flapped noisily along the long stretch of back roads. This is not the look of someone with money. Fatboy had envisioned a stretch limousine greeting them at Miami International Airport, instead of a safari transport. How was Cuban going to show him money when this was how he rolled? He took a sly peek at his partner for a hint of a negative reaction, since he was against the whole deal from the start.

Dee seemed to be enjoying being away from New York, and the ride to him was not as important as the scenery. All the bugs Florida had to offer, Dee admired. His hand gripped the roll bar and half his body leaned into the warm wind shear. “Those are some tall ass coconut trees,”  he shouted.

Cuban unbuttoned his lightweight, bullet-resistant Havana casual, exposing his curly gray chest hairs. “My friend, those are palm trees,” he said, switching his gaze to Fatboy. “You don’t agree with our weather?”

“Its your jalopy,” Fatboy said. “Try the air again.”

“You will feel better shortly. I made preparations custom for you.” Cuban said. “You’ll be pleased.”

The air conditioning rumbled before fluttering out a puff of hot air. Hector swerved the jeep quickly onto a partially hidden side road, past a tattered two foot high wooden picket, and a quarter mile down a sandy drive. The side road was hardly noticed, cutting right down the middle of acres of fruit groves to the left and tobacco plants on the right. “Open your eyes to the safety and security our money buys.” 

 “That your house?” Dee asked.

“My Hacienda will be three minutes in view.” Cuban answered. “We process various products in that building on the other side of the orange groves.”

“That coca, huh?” Dee replied.

“In due time, you will see.”

Fatboy rapped Dee on the leg. “Do you know the Rodriguez brothers?”

Cuban studied each face, and looked up briefly at Hector before answering the question. “Their wishes did not line up with my plans, but that was in our teenage years.” He raised his brows, and his speech became more deliberate. “He was stupid, only the little ones I feel sorry for.”

“So they are your problem then?” Fatboy asked.

“Ah gentlemen, you will have your answers. This moment we are here for relax.” He accepted a handkerchief from Fatboy to clean the dust residue off his sunglasses. “Welcome. Please, feel free to indulge in my perks. And do not worry, you are safe here,” he said, leading with his eyes beyond the groves. He smiled as Fatboy made his way the additional ten feet toward an industrial fan whose breeze offered the best comfort in the sweltering heat.                                      

Introducing Dunbar Matthews

All of Harlem knows Squirrel. He’s been building a reputation as a scrambler since a youth pedaling packages up and down the hills along the West side at ten years old. From transporting coke on five speed Schwinns to transforming vacant building lots into prime drug real estate. His customer clientele reaches from lower Manhattan up to Sugar Hill, sneaking into the Heights to cut in on the Jersey customer’s.

A true Harlem bread winner, cocky and confident, toward anything moving. His boss status never topped a lieutenant, until a power move changed his fortunes to life on the run.

His excessive celebrations gain control of his ego, further tipping the scales out his favor. They don’t call him Squirrel cause he looks like one, he’s been playing the game long enough to know, when shit begins to get hot and heavy, always have an out, that’s how he survived in the streets. But games last as long as your luck don’t run out.

Next week, meet Makenzie Williams aka Fatboy

Writer’s Write…., Farewell til Forever…

Ahmad C. Wakanda

Introducing Jitorious Black

Known to his fellas as Jitt Black. A shy, avid reader of adventurous spy novels, and positive affirmation quotes. But to his dismay, his life, is lived in a real world, with real people.

It’s 1977 NYC, the city is experiencing one of the worst crisis in modern history. Double-digit unemployment, a serial killer terrifying the city, widespread police corruption, and a major blackout occurs at a time when city services are strained near bankruptcy.

Oblivious to these events, as puberty hits, Jitt Black’s hormones spark an outgoing personality odyssey. An allure for pretty girls emerge, but his words for conversation are lost. His looks are an acquired taste, not a fair-skinned Rico Suave type with the wavy hair, so chicks are not flocking his way. His words speaking to girls don’t belong to him, and when he does muster the courage his words are lifted from dialogue of his favorite characters.

When an offer to make money is solicited to Jitt Black, by Squirrel, an outgoing Harlem hustler, who once dated Jitt Black’s sister, all his hopes and wishes of material articles, wants and desires of a girlfriend are within reach of his grasp.

The novel’s he enjoys reading offer adventure, but the opportunity to make money offers a chance for a life out of poverty. The costs is his innocence as he delves into a Harlem underground to a world he never knew existed.

A world where loyalty’s are tested and commitments are rewarded. Only the smart survive in this game, while the naive are left to perish.

This cautionary tale of, ‘be careful what you ask for’ serves to warn us the grass is not greener on the other side.

Next week, meet Dunbar Matthews aka Squirrel.

Writers write…, Farewell till forever…

Ahmad C. Wakanda