A few weeks to go

What a year 2020 has been. Like millions of others I'm looking forward to seeing a different year. While I'd prefer to go back a few years, I know we must move forward, so 2021, where the hell have you been.

It's been a long 12 months, over half of it unlike anything this country has ever seen. I told myself that this was my year to finish my novel, and while I've made progress, I also started a new job in the midst of a pandemic, ensure my boys are OK in their Zoom classes each day and deal with the stress of politics, civil unrest, injustices, the end of my naivety on certain issues and a not-so-new lifestyle that no longer involves interacting with other adults face to face for 8 hours a day, feelings of isolation, with getting dressed and heading out for a morning commute and heading home for an evening commute a distant memory. I need to cut myself some slack. We all do. 

At the peak of the pandemic, there was a meme making its rounds that went something like "Have you started a business? Went back to school to get a degree? Learned a hobby? If not, you never lacked time, you lacked discipline." It was supposed to be motivational, but I didn't like what it implied. Shortly after I saw a new meme, one with all those "get off your butt" tough love-isms crossed out and replaced with something like "If you got out of bed this morning, then you're doing OK. You don't have to do all these things, we're in a pandemic, it's OK to be in survival mode." 

I'm glad someone said it. The pressure to have used this time at home, if you were able to be at home, to change the world, do all the things you never did before, all while having a positive attitude and carrying on like nothing happened, was ridiculous. 

I lost a co-worker. Several family members are lucky to be survivors of it. I've started and stopped my fitness journey three times since March. I'm having to learn a new job remotely without ever having met my co-workers in person. Yeh, sorry, getting my PhD and applying for several grants to launch a nonprofit are things I'm just not thinking about right now, and that's OK.

What I did do was attend the NYC Pitch Conference (remotely) and got great feedback on the story I'm currently working on. I joined the executive board of my sorority's local chapter and chair a committee focused on helping seniors in the county. I also cut my hair and said goodbye to my reliance on wigs and other "protective styles." I needed a change. My husband gets credit for practically insisting I visit the barber for a fade and line up. Something to switch it up. 

So as I wait for a new president to take office along with other major changes that await the country, I have hope that I will one day soon walk into a store and see people smile again, see their faces, and not have my glasses fog up. I have hope that people will forgive one another; that people realize some ugly truths about themselves and work towards healing; that people who lost their loved ones this year from COVID-19, police brutality, senseless violence, hate crimes, depression and suicide, and more --- that they find the strength to continue on with a renewed sense of purpose. And that they find peace.

Just a few weeks to go....

Still not published

Even though some literary purists still look down on self-published authors, I'm happy that these authors' dreams aren't dependent on an agent believing in them, or an editor at some imprint taking a chance on them, or them having 200K Twitter followers, therefore making that chance more likely.

You just need a vision. Be it to self-publish and the book become so popular that some fancy NYC publisher is reaching out to buy your work...you know, since you're now worthy. Or, just to have an author website with a catalog of books that a small, but loyal following love. Or, just to leave a mark, an "I was here." Whatever it is, I'm happy the option is there to share the people and places you created.

I've been in the mood for romance lately, and while there's no lack of steamy love stories to add to my Amazon cart, what is lacking are stories featuring damsels and heroines who look like me. Who live and love like me.

Sure, the "my baby daddy just got out of jail, and he don't know I'm now with his brother" books appeal to folks. And I'm happy they have these books. But what about me?

The women who want to read about a secret club where all your fantasies can be fulfilled....but at what cost. Why can't I have the romance, mixed with a little danger, a little magic and thrills, thrown together with some sci-fi elements to create a fantastastical page turner?

Guess I can. I just have to write it. And publish it. And market it. And sell the hell out of it. And build a fan base. Sigh.

I'm still not published yet. Here's to getting one step closer.

Hello world

Right now my kids are fast asleep and finally have some highly coveted "me time." So I decided to visit my neglected blog to let it know I'm still around. Of course I have a ton of things I need to be doing right now, namely grading papers (I teach writing part time now!), but here I am, being selfish and doing me.

Recently, I experienced a stunning reminder of the power of our minds. Positive thinking and affirmations work. Daily, I've been writing down reminders to myself of how great I am, how I'm on the right track, how happy and healthy I am, and so on. I even have a vision board that I reflect on to visualize the life I want to have. I'm proud to say that I'm one step closer to at least one of those things on my board (yay!!) and generally feeling more optimistic about my power. The power I have to change my life.

I'm reading "Positive Imaging" by Norman Vincent Peale. It's more than 30 years old, but the guidance is relevant even today. One of the passages in the book deals with a breathing exercise that goes like this:

I breathe in strength, I breathe out weakness

I added to it and tailored it to my tastes and you should do. Mine is more along the lines of:

I breathe in strength, I breathe out weakness
I breathe in victory, I breathe out defeat
I breathe in confidence, I breathe out self doubt

Well I have to get back to things. Just a random musing of an editor and writer.

Wild is the wind

This songs fits my mood perfectly today.

You’re free now, Mane

Yesterday my uncle passed away in Ferriday, Louisiana.

Louis Evans. We called him Mane.

After spending seven months suspended in a strange state that balanced between unconsciousness and slight recognition of the outside world, his body and spirit became one.

He became free. I am deeply hurt and saddened, but at peace with what the universe has decided.

Mane was what you call a man’s man. They don’t make them like him anymore. Mane spent his life working long, hard hours in mills, plants, and on labor sites to provide for his family and embodying what it means to be a “real man.”

He was not a rich man in terms of cash flow. He was, however, rich in creativity, pride, and love for his family.

Mane was a self-taught artist who created amazing drawings and sculptures. Without spending one day in an art class learning about symmetry, lines, lighting, color palettes, or how greats like Van Gogh did it, he created works of art from a god-given innate talent and ability.

Mane was a simple man who could be made happy with his favorite music and movies, and travels down memory lane after a good meal.

Curtis Mayfield was one of my uncle’s favorite musicians. My fondest memories of him include his joy when his sister—my mom—would visit and bring along his favorite cassette tapes and VHS recordings of musical performances.

He’d sit in his rocking chair and rock and nod his head and tap his fingers to the beat on the chair arm.

I loved my uncle. I miss my uncle. I wish he could have seen so much more of this world.

He spent his entire life in Ferriday and dreamed of one day getting on an airplane and seeing what existed outside of it.

My mother and I had plans to make that happen for him.

He deserved to see and do the things that so many of us take for granted.

Mane, you were the closest thing I had to a dad. I love you and long for more years with you.

But I know you’re free now. In so many ways.

Your time on this earth will not be forgotten.

12:01 AM

Interesting title, isn't it?

What does it mean?

If you regularly peruse USAJobs in search of  a federal job, then this time may mean something to you.

It may mean "Oh crap! I forgot to apply for that job at the Department of So and So! Why god, whyyyyy!"

But if you're like me, 12:01 AM, Monday through Friday represents hope. It represents a new chance that today is your day to see the job of your dreams.

You see, 12:01 AM is the time that the new jobs for the day appear on the site. It's like Christmas...the anticipation of what could be there as you enter your keyword, city or state, and filter by announcements posted 'Today.'

If you're a federal employee in the competitive service or a veteran with preference, you're lucky enough to get the best of both worlds. New jobs open up that only you can apply to. You also get to apply as a US citizen.

Must be nice.

But if you're like me, just a regular US citizen with no points at all, then 12:01 AM has a more special meaning. You want to see the jobs as soon as possible to get your application in before the thousands of others with the same dream.

You dare yourself to venture over to the Federal employee side to see that the available jobs has doubled. You torture yourself and check to see if your dream job is there.

It is.

Who may apply? Not you.

Undeterred, you go back to where you belong. You're in luck, one job has appeared that you can apply to.

After you apply begins your anxious wait for an answer. Your wait may be three days after the closing. Two weeks. Two months. Maybe even six months before you get the final verdict that you already figured out when the phone never rang.

I wrote all this to let you know you're not alone. We US Citizens with no merit promotion, no vet preference, no special hiring authority, no nothing but our resumes, our questionnaires and our desire to serve our country through civil service......we are here.

And as we wait for 12:01 to start our new shift of checking religiously throughout the day, we aren't going anywhere.

Addiction

Around 2pm today, I was sitting at my desk and feeling a bit sluggish after having not gotten much sleep last night. I decided to take a quick walk to Starbucks for a venti misto, no foam. I walked through the busy food court like I always do and checked out my side profile in store windows like I always do. But something caught my eye that disturbed me greatly....it was a stunning realization.

I looked pregnant. 

The flowy summer dress I wore today looked like a maternity dress to me. My son just turned one a few days ago. My abdominal muscles have still not recovered. I could hardly believe how pregnant I looked in this dress. I knew I had some belly pudge going on that I've been battling with. But this was stunning to me. 

I then wondered how many of my coworkers noticed. How many, if any, wondered if I was expecting and not announcing yet. I was overcome with shame as I sucked in my tummy as best I could; got my coffee; and scurried back to my desk, looking at people's faces to see if they were glancing down at me. 

I had a Carrie fantasy where I imagined the food court spinning and everyone staring at my belly and pointing, while my wicked mother harps in the background "they're all going to laugh at you...they're all going to laugh at you!"

I reached the safety of my floor and spotted a coworker who I started to talk to about my revelation that I looked to be expecting again. 

I was assured that people didn't think that...but received no assurance that no I did not look pregnant. 

I knew then that  a drastic change was needed. 

I told my coworker who I often speak with about food and dieting that sugar addiction (my ailment) is one of the few addictions that you can't hide. 

If I was a drug addict, gambling addict, alcoholic, or sex addict, my secret shame would be my own business unless my behavior became concerning enough that people started to have suspicions. But other than that, I would look as normal as anyone else. 

Food addiction is something that you cannot hide for long before you body tells the world your secret. As you walk around checking out your side profile in store windows; as you sit down and instinctively tug at your blouse or shirt to remove it from your folds of fat; as clothes refuse to accommodate you in the dressing room; as you sit on the bus or train and other commuters board and decide not to sit next to you because your thighs are taking up just a tad too much of their would-be seat; as you dress for fall or winter during the hot summer months because you just don't have the body to flaunt in clothes more appropriate for the season. 

As you do all these things, people notice. Your addiction and struggle is showing. You can be in a room full of non-food/sugar addicts and you will be the only who stands out for having the least amount of willpower out of everyone else. 

Food. Sugar. Carbs. Salt. Whatever your vice. It's a vice you share with strangers every day. They look at you and know at least one thing about you. When you're fat, everyone knows at least one thing about you. But you don't get the same privilege unless you actually know them.

Life is funny like that. 

I made an appointment today for a holistic approach to weight loss. Looking at myself today confirmed that what I've been doing is not working. Perhaps some insight will assist. 

I had to say something

My friend texted me this morning that a Baton Rouge man's shooting was "hard to watch." I didn't know what she was talking about, I was still on the train heading in to work and rarely have time to catch the news while rushing out to work.. Being from Baton Rouge, LA, I was naturally curious and immediately went online to see what had occurred.

I then saw his face. A face that reminded me of men I've met along this journey called life. His gold teeth caught my attention first. Yep, he's from home I thought. Gold teeth is something I grew up seeing and I associate them with the South, with Louisiana--with home. I didn't realize until I left home that gold teeth were considered "ghetto" or something only "backwards blacks" in the South wore. The men and women I knew with gold teeth were smart, hardworking, and very prideful people who wore them as a form of cultural expression. Perhaps people outside of the area simply couldn't understand our culture outside of jambalaya and gumbo, I thought, and didn't appreciate what a special people we were.

I read with growing sorrow of what happened to Alton Sterling and couldn't bring myself to watch the video, though the warnings of "Graphic," and "Not safe for work" let me know it was a little different than the other shootings that made the news.

It was. It was gut wrenching to realize this man's final moments as he lay restrained. The fear he must have felt, the helplessness....the bullets ripping through his flesh.

I've been emotional all day. Hundreds of murders every year. I would say like most people in this country, I have become somewhat desensitized. Bullet-riddled bodies drop to the pavement every single day across America. So why is this guy different?

For me, it was his face. We're around the same age, I wondered if we'd ever crossed paths. I had a personal connection to this man and to this place. North Foster Boulevard. My mother and I drove up and down that road hundreds of times. He could have been my uncle who lives near the shooting. My uncle is not a rich man, he's a musician who supports himself doing odd jobs. That could have been him selling cds to make ends meet.

He could have been my cousin.

I still can't bring myself to watch the full video. It's just too much for me right now. Lately I've just been more susceptible than usual to bad news and am working to make space for more positive energy. But when your mornings start like this, it's a little hard

I saw his son break down during a press conference today. At 15 and just entering young adulthood, a boy needs his father. I hope there is a village willing to step in and provide him the guidance he will need.

I hugged my two sons a little tighter when I got home. They are so innocent and have no idea what the world is like. I don't want them to find out, but I know they have to. We all have to learn the truth.

That tomorrow is not promised. Life is not fair. People do bad things. And we will never figure out why.

Good night.

Sunday nights since March 2014

It's Sunday night. I'm at the laptop with two class assignments due by 11:59 p.m. As I write this post the time is 7:27 p.m.

Most Sundays night since March 2014 have ended up the same way. Down to the wire, trying to finish an assignment that I had no time to complete during the work week. This is one of those Sundays. The kids are away at a cookout (wait a minute, it's the 4th of July weekend and I'm doing school work). So you'd think that would leave me ample time to get work done. Wrong.

I'm stuck on a journal assignment that I don't quite understand. Here's the prompt:

After reviewing this module’s resources, compare and contrast Rory Sutherland’s concept of “frame of reference” marketing to that of expensive and magnificent solutions. Assess the ideal of branding and rebranding through “positioning” and “frame of reference.”

Now one of my texts, Kellogg on Branding, speaks of frame of reference from a marketing perspective and defines it as "a statement of the target's goal that will be served by consuming the brand....the frame of reference may guide the choice of targets, identify situations in which the brand might be used, and define relevant competitors."

Okay, I think I got that. However, Rory Sutherland's "frame of reference" TED Talk focuses on how situations can be reframed to provide a different perception. One example he provides is saying "I'm unemployed" versus "I'm taking a year off." The situation is the same...not having a job. But the latter's perception is that of choice or having the ability to take a year off and not needing a job. 

So what I'm trying to do is apply this concept to marketing and I'm having a hard time. 

Oh well, let me get back to work. I actually have an integrated marketing plan to also finalize. 

My master's is so close I can almost taste it!

Black Confessions and Bronze Thrills: Black romance magazines (cont'd)

Some years back I wrote a blog post on the black romance magazines. It was an ode to my hormonal teenage years when I desperately sought out anything that could offer me a preview of what was in store for me when I "got grown."

While I loved them dearly, I was critical of the glaring editorial errors that sometimes made a story unreadable. But I continued to buy them because they were special to me and captivated me, and helped me realize that I too wanted to write stories.

Well years later, I still have most of those magazines. The ones from the 90s are worn, and a couple are missing their covers, but everything else is in tact. I didn't realize the response I'd receive from that post.

I've received feedback from people directly involved with these magazines and it inspired to me highlight these publications once again.

These days, women who enjoy black romance are no longer able to go to the grocery store and pick these up (correct me if I'm wrong). We have websites we can go to for black erotica. And of course, we have gritty, raunchy urban lit books. But not these magazines.

Please let me (and others) know if there are any equivalents out there. It's amazing how much we have available to us now through social media, blogs, sites, and apps....yet some things remain hard to come by. Like magazines that let us live vicariously through the sex and love lives of characters, who much like ourselves, are just trying to figure out this thing called love.

Before I go, I want to give a shout out to the ads these magazines used to have. How many of you remember the lucky talismans, the love potients, the padded underwear, the psychics and healers, the wigs and hair pieces? It's a little funny now to look at these ads and not see a website or an '@' address to follow them on Twitter and Instagram. Just a PO Pox and a phone number.

One small step for writers-kind

Boy have I been neglecting this blog. The thing I started as a creative release has become pushed to the side as I juggled work, school, my pursuits of professional development, and being a mom to my two and half year old and my almost one-year old. I've been busy. But not that busy. One should never give up the things that give them release and make them happy. My writing has always been that. This post marks my one small step back.

Do You Have a Card?

I went to a networking event tonight for government communicators at a nice restaurant in Downtown DC and was the only one there without an official business card. At my job, if you don't interact with the public, then you don't get a company business card. I find this very unfortunate. My communications functions are internal, relegated to my fellow employees only (e.g., newsletter, emails, intranet content management, etc.). My customers at work know who I am, and if they don't, a simple Outlook search will yield my names and title. But there's something about a business card. It helps to build your brand. It helps promote your organization. It serves as a verifier of your knowledge, skills, and abilities to your peers. This last part, serving as a verifier, is what I feel is most important. Tonight I had to pass out my personal card. Nothing is wrong with it, in fact, a senior communications official commented that it was cute. But I don't want a cute card. I want card from my organization so that I have proof that I work where I say I work. A card that joins a professional rolodex. But those are the rules. I only communicate internally. No card with embossed with the company seal for me. I find this very unfortunate.

National Association of Government Communicators - 2014 Communication School

I attended the NAGC's 2014 Communications School and was thoroughly pleased with all I learned. It was just what I needed to re-energize my professional pursuits. My responsibilities during the day at my job and my new responsibilities as a mommy have left my head spinning in terms of how to get back on track with my professional development. I never want to get so comfortable in one situation that I fail to take notice of the advancements occurring in my communications field, and of course, new opportunities to grow and learn.

I'm responsible for creating and implementing communication plans. It can be very challenging because each plan is different and requires different strategies, or at least a different way to communicate to the project managers. Listening to the best practices of some of the country's top communicators gave me insight into some new strategies I can use back at the office.

Things I've Been Wondering About

I have a lot of random thoughts throughout my day, as do most folks I suppose. Sometimes I use Google to find the answers or to at least see if there are others who are wondering the same thing.

Here's a few of my musings as of late:

1. Why do people place their bags on the seat next to them when riding public transit? Are they hoping no one sits next to them? How dare they hog a seat they haven't paid for.

2. Why don't people invest in a good pair of headphones, ones that actually go into the ear, so that I'm not forced to hear their music, and if I know the song, follow the lyrics?

3. In reproduction, 1+1=3, why doesn't it make sense when talking about math?

4. Why does half and half never seem to spoil?

5. When did everyone start jogging? Were they jogging in the 60s like they do now?

6. Why don't we need to receive a parenting certification before having children?

7. Why does $5 get me a bag full of filling greasy food from a fast food place, but that $5 won't cover the cost of a salad at the same place?

8. Why does every job I get contain the same set of personalities as my previous job? It's the same script but with a different cast. Is this bizarro world, how can my former coworkers morph into new people and place themselves at my new place of employment?

9. Now this one is controversial: if you claim to be an animal lover, how can you pay thousands of dollars for a special breed animal when a perfectly good mixed breed languishes in an animal shelter and is available for less than $75.

Becoming a mom...part II

I had a boy!! So I'm 12 weeks into mommyhood and I'm getting more sleep and am becoming more used to my back to work routine of:

Getting up super early to breastfeed,

Taking my son to daycare,

Hurrying to work,

Pumping in the lactation room aka the 'milking room'; work; pump; work; pump...

Rushing to daycare to pick up my little guy who've I missed terribly,

Making dinner, spending time with my hubby, doing what I can before my 10:30 bedtime...

Sleeping for just a little while,

Being awakened by cries,

Nursing while nodding off and fending off the pain of exhaustion,

Looking over at hubby who's fast asleep, unable to control my jealousy,

Nodding back to sleep for what seems like 30 minutes to an hour

Awakened by cries

Getting up super early to breastfeed (repeat steps above)

Becoming a mom and other stuff

I'll be giving birth in 5 weeks and I'm incredibly  nervous about it. My life has changed so much over the past year I haven't had a chance to catch my breath. And now this. This is my first time admitting it on social media. I'm pregnant. I'm having a little boy. He'll be here next month. I hope I'll be a good mom. I know so little about it. I've been told that it'll come naturally. We'll see. I have a lot to give. But have never had to give it in this capacity.

I got married earlier this year, and while I'm still trying to understand what this marriage thing is all about. So much for my editor and writer musings I suppose. I've been so consumed with everything else. But one good thing is that my little brain is constantly observing the interesting things of my world.

I live mere minutes from the decision makers who are battling over who will win the government shutdown (yes, one side will "win" and the other will "lose"); the scene of the Navy Yard shootings that made headlines about two weeks ago; the woman who drove from Connecticut to DC and due to her bizarre actions lost her life; and most recently the poor man who set himself on fire on the National Mall and later succumbed to his injuries. This past month has been very emotionally trying in this area.

I feel very fortunate that, despite all the anxiety I've been feeling, I'm in a good place and I have a lot to look forward to. With so much going on in the world, I'm just happy to have my sanity (though it wanes a bit) to guide me through. I'm happy to have love. I'm happy to have a job where I feel somewhat needed. And I'm happy that I can look back on some rough times I've had the past few years and am now embarking on a journey I never imagined.

I'll be back with updates.

Back from the dead

So I visited this blog of mine and wasn't shocked to discover that my last post was almost a year ago. I know I've been ignoring my little musings headquarters. And the longer I went, the more bad I felt about the absence and the more overwhelmed I felt to make up for it. But I can't make up for it.

I can only pick up my virtual pen and start up again.

I've had plenty of musings this past year, most of which I've shared via email with friends or kept to myself, or jotted down in my various journals strewn from room to room.

Time just got away from me, and my creativity became imprisoned by life's other pressing issues and my unwillingness to wage a courageous battle against the many gremlins that kept me from my craft.

And somehow in the middle of all that, I met a great guy and got married! I'm still a little surprised by that one. (And if you care to go back and read about my stagnant love life, you'll see why....boy did I have a tough time.) But yep, I have a husband now and have been busy adjusting to the new role. I should cut myself some slack as I've only been wed about 4 months now. So far I would say marriage is a lot like I imagine "shacking up" to be. Except there's legal documents binding us together. His name is Dimitri and we're just starting a very long journey together.

I also have a new job, same place but a different office. I'm a communications advisor, which is the direction I've been wanting to head into for a long time now. I'm also the editor of the employee newsletter.  Yay for me! You should see me, interviewing, arranging photo shoots, creating issue lineups and trying to keep my coworkers informed and entertained as best I can. This is what I've been wanting. I hope to excel as I face new challenges (and I mean challenges!) and prove my worth amongst a very talented group of people.

Happy Birthday America!!!!

Yay it's July 4th!!!! Here's to my favorite country in the whole wide world. This great nation of mine, the United States of America. Happy Birthday!!!

Literary Freestylin': Chapter 1

OK, I'm back. Took a longer break than I intended. As I feared, other things have bumrushed my mind and clogged my creative flow. But I said I would do it, and I will. However, it's not a full chapter. I'll say this is more of an introduction (refer to my previous post if you're clueless about what I'm talking about). I don't know, it's rough, but there might be something here. It doesn't have a name yet. I'll see how I feel as it develops. Might end up being something.

Chapter 1 

Up until Abraham Jackson started working in the communications department, Grace had enjoyed relative comfort in her daily interactions with her coworkers. No one struck her as particularly odd or even particularly interesting; they were your average office workers who mustered smiles and said hellos and goodbyes and sometimes stopped to make chit chat before continuing about their business. But Abraham, her new boss, was different. Grace picked up a strange vibe about him, one that made her doubt her sanity. It was unsettling actually. Tonya, the managing editor, knocked on Grace's cube wall that morning, full of her usual cheer, and introduced Abraham Jackson, assistant managing editor. She felt apprehensive as Abraham extended his hand to her. He said hello, nice meet you. She said the same, and mustered an uncomfortable smile, as he took longer than socially necessary to complete the handshake. Tonya then said something about his previous job, Radar Media, in Chicago. And how she'd call a formal meeting later that afternoon. That's all Grace could recall from the conversation after the two left her work space. 


She sat there regaining her composure after what had just happened. While Tonya chattered away, Grace could have sworn that Abraham was saying things to her that Tonya couldn't hear. But Grace heard it. When Abraham first touched her hand, she heard a voice whisper in her ear. It was like an echo of his voice, yet it said something different than hello. It said "Long time no see, Grace. How  have you been my love?" 

Literary Freestylin': I'm Finna Try it Again

So it's 2:30am. I'm eating grapes and gyrating to dancehall music. I have Chaka Demus and Pliers' "Murder She Wrote" on repeat and just finished working my thang in front of the mirror like I'm sexy or something. You can't tell me my dutty wine isn't Hall of Fame worthy. Prior to this, I was perusing my blog archives and reunited with a short story I posted on here 3 years ago. I wrote it chapter by chapter over several weeks. It was about the adventure of an overweight bookworm who met a man intent on introducing her to a new world of eroticism and fear. Here's an excerpt:


"Tell me what you desire most."
"Do you have all night? I desire a lot of things."
"As do I. But every list begins with one thing. That thing, or desire, is usually the most important."
Sweety held the phone to her ear the way she would have held his hand to her cheek.
"A man’s touch."
"I see," he said thoughtfully. "That's interesting. Tell me, Sweety, would you say you are suffering from skin hunger?"
"I never thought about it that way, but yes, I would say that."
"What terrifies you the most?"
"Drowning. I can’t swim and almost drowned when I was little."

Raymond, "Papi," took some time before replying. Sweety knew he was contemplating something profound, everything he said seemed like it belonged in a text book. She had discovered his blog Mind Factor two weeks earlier and was immediately intrigued at his eloquence and intelligence in his latest post in which he described the often taboo relationship between fear and eroticism. She left a comment and the link to her own blog, Loserville, Population: Me. Papi visited her blog and over the course of several days generously left detailed replies to all 75 posts. This was her fourth consecutive night of intense phone communication with him. During that short time, he had managed to coax experiences and personal admissions from Sweety that she dared only repeat to herself.

Finally he said “I know what you need. For the two extremes to collide--can you imagine what that would do to your senses? To fear your surroundings, but to squirm in pleasure beneath the hands that confine you there."
And that's when he started to tell her about a special underworld he governed, complete with clients and a collage of "wishmasters" who served those clients' needs.


Read the whole thing here. 

Promise me you won't judge me. I'm just a writer relaying a story a character told me.


Well, I was impressed by myself to say it was a literary freestyle. Meaning I didn't think about it beforehand or cut and paste it from an existing document. I just looked at what I last wrote, started a new post, and got to typing whatever came to mind.


I want to do it again. It's a great way to relive writer's block and to get the creative juices flowing as the saying goes. I'm not going to promise a certain number of chapters or anything because literary freestylin doesn't work that way. It just flows. By the end, I hope it will have improved my flow on my short story collection. 

So, later on today, after I've gotten some rest, I'll sit down and get started on Chapter 1 of some type of story. It's been a while, I hope the old brain can still do it on the fly. I'll let you be the judge. While I said I don't plan ahead for freestyles, I'm giving myself a start time only to hold myself accountable. I won't cheat, it'll be totally as I go.


Signed,

JenntheEditor (I've never used this handle before establishing it on Twitter. I kind of like it. I think 'JenntheEditor' will be my new thing. It has a nice ring to it.)