Shavon Jones is an award-winning attorney turned author of contemporary fiction about societal ills. She writes strong characters finding themselves and being true to themselves, whether their truth turns out to be flattering or unflattering. She writes characters who evolve into whole, genuine and self-aware beings.
Her debut novel, Working Girls: Money, Power & Love, led to a spinoff column called “The Working Girl’s Guide” which provides workplace etiquette tips laced with humor and has been featured in Key Biscayne Magazine. These tips were garnered from Shavon’s 14 year career as an attorney and accountant at legal firms, a Big Four accounting firm and a Fortune 500 Company.
Her second novel, The Golden Egg, deals with the media-driven, celebrity-worshipping culture of overconsumption, a societal ill that is relatable to men and women from all walks of life. In The Golden Egg, an NBA player signs a $100 million contract and finds the whole world grabbing at him, trying to get a piece of him, including the beautiful daughter of a faded 80’s rock star. Here, the reader is given a first-hand look at how it feels to be loved by everyone and by no one at the same time.
For fall of 2013, Shavon is immersed in the Latin culture, living in South America. That experience will likely seep into her future writing projects, but probably not her third novel, Dani with an I, which deals with the black church and closeted homosexuality or ‘down low brothers’. That novel is still in the developmental stages, but will likely be set in Atlanta or Washington, D.C.
Shavon also published Dating Chronicles: Surviving the Game of Love with Humor, which is a compilation of the best dating blog posts for the 2012 Forty (or So) blog series, profiled in the Miami Herald.
Before transitioning into creative writing, Shavon traditionally published a scholarly article in the prestigious Journal of International Taxation (snooze). She has been featured in The Miami Herald, More Magazine, Key Biscayne Magazine, Legacy Magazine, The Florida Courier, The South Florida Business Journal and numerous trade and corporate newsletters.
Her lectures and training programs, such as “Workaholics Anonymous: The 9-Step Program to a Life that Doesn’t Make You Want to Drink,” “How to Get Career Satisfaction in 30 Days” and “How to Lean In” are given to large audiences including the National Bar Association, the National Association of Black Hotel Owners, Operators and Developers, the Black Executive Exchange Program, and numerous university and corporate groups.
Cuddle up with one of Shavon’s works, and discover a woman’s worth.
I spent 10 days in the Argentine cities of Mendoza and Buenos Aires during summer (North America’s winter). It was basically a tale of two cities because Mendoza and Buenos Aires could not be more different. But I love them both, though for different reasons. I arrived via luxury coach. That’s a bus with seats that fully recline into beds, like in first class on an airplane. Okay, they do not provide free pajamas and expensive face creams on the bus, so I suppose it’s more like business class on an international flight. Meals and beverages are served on real china. I don’t recall the food being good, but the fact that it was available pleased me. There is normal entertainment: movies, games, wi-fi. But the best entertainment is something completely unavailable on a flight where, other than at takeoff and landing, there is nothing so see except air pudding and wind sauce (I’m referring to clouds, for those of you who are lacking in imagery today). But on a coach ride the view streaming past the window is the breathtaking, multi-hued Andes mountain range between Santiago, Chile and Mendoza, Argentina. You have to look at my pictures. I swear it was like a talented five year old had a box of crayons and a vivid imagination. You told him to draw mountains, but this budding Da Vinci grabbed the slate blue, old gold, burnt orange, pink rose, ice blue, and yellow-green colors and created a vision that leapt off ...
I took the ferry from Buenos Aires, Argentina to Colonia Del Sacramento, Uruguay. It is a one hour ride. Many do it as a day trip either because they are tourists who don’t want to be that close to another country without checking it out for a few hours or because they are locals seeking a peaceful reprieve from the hustle and bustle of Buenos Aires. The Buquebus ferry is an indoor ferry with space for vehicles on the lower deck and air conditioned passenger seating on the upper deck, which conveniently has a duty free shop and a restaurant for those who can’t go one hour without buying something. Colonia is, without question, the most romantic place I have ever been. Every narrow, cobblestone road is quiet and serene, with birds and insects chirping. And there always seemed to be a nice couple walking down the street holding hands. The primary mode of transportation in Colonia is the scooter. I’ve always loved the thought of living somewhere where I’d only need a cute little Vespa with a basket in front for the groceries I’d bring from the farmer’s market to make for dinner in my quaint kitchen overlooking the Atlantic. Colonia offers exactly that. Don’t want to cook tonight? There’s generally a charming little café underneath a tree on every road you turn down. The town’s history has been carefully preserved. There’s the moat near the tourist office. The dinosaur skeleton. (I’m sorry, is this where the dinosaurs roamed, ...
I remember the first time I traveled to Paris. It was love at first sight. I literally squealed when I saw the Eiffel Tower. The sight of those widgets held together by bolts coated in bronze paint was everything I’d hoped and imagined it would be. Even the rickety creaks of the lift didn’t quell my enthusiasm as I was elevated to the platform overlooking the city’s domes, narrow rues, and well-constructed arrondissement complemented by the peaceful Seine River. Paris had taken hold of me, and I was in love. During my recent travels throughout South America, I saved Rio de Janeiro for last because I expected the city and her signature monument, Christ the Redeemer, to have the same effect. Those ubiquitous photos of Cristo presiding ominously over foggy valleys of blue waters dotted with small uninhabited islands were the reason I just had to see Rio. I expected a come to Jesus moment. And when I saw Cristo from my hotel window, I covered my mouth to stifle “the Paris squeal” and headed out to meet the maker. But when the van drove right up to the platform dotted with outdoor cafés and souvenir shops selling key chains and postcards, it was as if someone had pulled back the curtain and revealed the true identity of the great and powerful Oz. There was no fog, no religious moment, no wonder or amazement. It was just a big statute and a pretty water view. That was it. And standing ...