Making your Writing Dream come True

I’ve contemplated for many years about what my life would be like at 65 plus. When I was young, I went to school and got a certificate as a medical assistant. Over the years I worked in some major hospitals and organizations. I tried to envision what my life would be like after leaving the work world. Computers were introduced to the companies who wanted to organize their information. This instrument or machine whichever came first with a brain fascinated me it was like Abracadabra.  

I have been writing as a eight year old, creating poems and writing stories and most of them in my head. I procrastinated, never letting anyone know that I had this skill of writing. People in my life was not privy to my dream to be a published author. My writing started out documenting how I was mistreated in this world. Once that information had been purged, I found me to be empty. I still wanted to write and so went on a journey of writing stories. I even attempted to write a science fiction story. I was filling books with its fresh, smooth white paper and a perfectly fine point pen to express all my emotions.  I did know what I wanted to do. The writing was an escape out of the hurt and pain of life.

The writing was my therapist, which real-life could not offer. Help me understand why life is so complicated. Writing calms the soul. Through technology, I have been in a position to write and publish my works. I realize publishers are constantly rejecting the writer’s “submissions so i went on a mission of self publishing. During my learning process, I decided I am not looking for fanfare about my writing. I published my works whether they were purchased or not.  Don’t get me wrong I want to see my work noticed but it is important to do it for you first. I will publish it for sharing with others. If my works are recognized as worth anything Bravo I did it.

I am living my dream of having the time to write. So, I self-publish my two poetry books. “Reflections” is my first poetry book self-published on Lulu Publishing. I did all the writing and used the tools provided by Lulu Publishing. Then I decided to publish a second book, “1800 Indigo, excerpts from a life.” In my next journey, I document what my methods were during my writing process. This book is accurately named “Simple Steps for People Who Want to Write but Don’t Know Where Start.” Information that would help a person write. To live their dream. My rite of passage to pass the baton to others who are trying to write and give their worth. Some people have written in journals for years thinking about publishing.

People who are avid readers who have considered writing are clueless about the process. Some wanted to write, finding that they secretly had ambitions to become an author, but how would I even start. What would I write about? The skill I have obtained over time is from seeking out information and practice, practice, and more practice. I have researched writing magazines and books on writing. I have a library on the process of writing. YouTube has famous writers teaching on various parts of writing.  Each writer is an expert on dialogue, character, and plot, and genre. No, you will not be an instant published writer, but practice and seeking the proper amount of knowledge can get you to several levels. As you rise in the knowledge of writing you will recognize, the information in this eBook is to give you a start.  So let’s get started. My eBooks are published on lulu.com

SISTER CLARETHA, A GREAT SOUL PLO

My husbands Sister and my sister in-law, our closest supporter Claretha passed away. She was seventy years young. She was bold, courageous, most of all beautiful. At times a comedian telling me that she was afraid of nothing. She said that she had locked her dog in the bathroom so he could not roam around the house as she had did so many times. This one night a burglar broke in, waking Claretha, jumping from her bed retrieving her weapon of choice.  her 38 reasons why you should not disturb. Fully dressed in her night gown without shoes. Thank god it was a summer night and the streets were empty. Chasing the assailant six blocks all the while the dog was still in the bathroom. She stopped to discover her dress code, a night gown. no shoes would get her arrested along with her 38 reasons.

Although she never caught the assailant, she still pursued him, nevertheless. I admired her courage. She loved her grandchildren with out a doubt, always in the mix of them, correcting where needed. She would always have one of them with her. Claretha express that she wanted to go to the upcoming flower show. She brought Simone who she micromanaged. Simone took it all in stride. We had the best time. It was the first time I got to know her as a woman, mother as a grand mother. What really was interesting is she was a daddy’s girl and expressed it so many times. She was his protector and felt he just belong to her exclusively.  A nurse for the better part of her life. Claretha’s big brother Ed was a constant phone exchange of just to call. Ed would look at his phone and say, “my sister.” with great affection.

No matter what, she would call to make sure he was alright. She would phone him on his birthday reminding him that he was getting older. When he called her he could not get her on the phone because of her ministry on her answering machine about the power of god.  Claretha was a traveler of the world.  Places that we could only dream. She bought a ranch style home with three bedrooms in Brown Mills New Jersey.A house I wish I could afford to buy. This ranch style 3 bedrooms, large kitchen, bathroom. Outside-was acres of land for miles. At least 20 50-foot-tall trees, a pool and a plant nursery. Claretha lived rich and on her own terms. She lived life no matter what anyone thought or cared. On this day her birthday I choose to say thank you for being a presence in our  life.

Writing What you love

My manuscript is ready for publishing. So I decided to write a how to book on my adventure In writing. This lesson in writing my novel has been a way to educate myself. This book documents some of the techniques I used to write my novel. It was a great adventure learning to do something I love to do. So if you love writing here are some ideas for your experience. Coming 2020.

One Writer’s Journey

At the sensitive age of nine I lost the two main characters in my life, my grandam and the illustrious rajah who created me. I had never known that type of love until I had my progeny. As an undeveloped child, I inscribe my name in the cursive it completed me.  I designed letters so artistically beautiful. Connecting shapes and angles as I practice to perfection.  Writing words just to see how they would turn out. I began writing sentences to express my feelings and tell stories.  It was the first stage of learning of the self. I yearned for my grandmother and my father and as I sobbed through the pain. My trusty sword, a well sharpened #2 pencil and an excellent pen were my weapons against tribulations.

As, the spirit would have many of my feelings were cursively written without punctuation, organization or editing and lyrically sounding, leading me to sometimes write someone paper, and then in a composition book help me to put my tragedy in perspective. I knew nothing about being a writer, but I was writing.    This happened in 1959 during a time when racial issues were not something, I was aware of as a child.  Writing about my feelings helped me to express all the emotions that came from missing a grandmother who through religion read to me a bedtime story. The holy bible from genesis to revelation.  Helping form pictures in my immature mind. Many of the words written were designed and put in poetry form. My poetry was crafted from the poetry written in psalms and proverbs; I learn lyrical poetry. Hidden in the words that she read to me is a lesson on how to act. Hidden in my subconscious was everything that I needed to know.

Time went on I learn to put my feeling into poetry being my psychoanalysis. A journal of all my pain. After moving several times, I lost the rare book of my poems.  I hope if anyone read my words, would help them to solve their issues. My mind, would, play out these stories, mostly science fiction and romance genres.  I always loved movies. All this happens before the desktop computer comes into the home. When I received my first computer in the 1990s. I was learning this bewildering machine and the software was a magical entity. A writer that assisted me to put my words, into action.  I started on my first book of science fiction and created short stories.  I was privy to its surprising talents. I lived for using this instrument to write.

Writing requires you look at other writings and find what you are trying to convey. Some have written and re-written at least a hundred times to get that sentence accurate. You go through an emotional roller coaster of queries that at times make you ask, “Who tells you that you can write?” Then I read a paragraph of my writing and recognize you can compose with practice. You recognize your talents, then research the details that will help you write deeper. Bookstores are bliss and every Friday I would visit my preferred. Borders taught me how to search the shelves of this store to find the information you seek. As you go through floors and shelves you find this character called the writer’s corner. This area houses books on character, plot and dictionaries and the human trait. Leading magazines of writing built the story for me so perfectly.

Writers who were dispensing words  to help others with specifics. My imagination, of identifying an author’s hand that reaches for another lost writer. Inside she had so much fear, showing them how fear affects you and who. I would go back into my work and realize it needed better wording, design and greater clarity. Fast forward to my future and find that all my writing is in the future and it has given me great courage.

I believe I can write poetry and publish. What important information I have gleaned from designing words, I discovered the writer’s thesaurus and found it gives me stronger words with greater meaning, now it’s time to write that book that story in your head, about the alien ancestors who brought my humans to this planet to keep them safe. The question is where to start, who is my primary character and what is their mission. I need to research my idea. In the meantime, I am encouraged to start a short story, and search into great short works from well-known artists who have mastered, King, Poe, Hurston, Hughes.

Now I should have my own design. Hopefully it will fit, and my legacy is set, and my name will be uttered. I continue my journey to express my love for something given to me from the universe. A voice inside me is saying I learned from you and I learn from them, continue the voyage. Stories of me and my sister and my family and all the drama and character assassinations. All the while this wrote this remarkable character was doing something impressive, the words were healing my being. All the thoughts harbored in me, came to the surface.  I was starting to be another person. Shedding tears of pain and joy but leaving complete understanding.  I love the intelligent entity who gave the craft of writing and creativity. I never knew I loved writing so passionately. Daily I write something, even if it is a note to self, a reminder of what I need to do.

Going forward I find I have a novel, where others are finding it hard to put their butts in the seat, in that place to those stories out there. To embrace the greatness of communication. During all this movement of words, the world is changing and so are the sentences of creating a new one. I realize the so-called norm is no longer what I know and understand. People are telling a different type of story. They are outraged and no longer take it anymore. Dethroning monarchs with sentences and uplifting to those who need hope. Some of it masculine but the majority feminine and now they are not playing. The stories are about which I will not be changed. I will not be disrespected. The story is about the sentences written long ago and has become comfortable.

This achievement of writing has made me responsible for those who need my information. That I too must speak my truth in this new world is recreated. This writing is given me courage, especially since my silence otherwise has induced me complacent. This writing has made me come and face the truth of my pain and, how it happens and who cause the pain. Rivers from my eyes forge ahead to continue to work on my style. My journey has led me to conferences that has rooms of writers and authors at different levels of learning and publishing. Can I pitch a story idea, still building that courage? An agent gave a little advice, wowing he was interested in the story. My self-esteem is rising soon, only hoping to be a published author. The goal is to write great novels and short stories and continue to learn and meet people who have the same attitude.

New Species of Human

 I have observed a transformation in the human spectrum. I have never had a problem or opinion of the LGBTQ community. Why? I have no idea. I think people have to be what they want to be in this life. Lately, I have seen them coming out of all these communities. Last year I was privy to the gay pride festival in Philadelphia. I admired their audacity to be themselves. In many, I notice the question has been “Who am I?” I too asked that question? We are in a transitional phase. Many materials are being stirred and shaken. What if the universe is “creating:” on a whole new level? Over the centuries there has always been a difference in the species of humans on earth.  I mean the scientist just found out the universe is expanding. When it expands guests what it means, it expands everywhere even on earth.  So, the other question is “What if?” Our species is being recreated to add another. I’ve seen people dealing with the gay entity. Now it has changed drastically. We started with LGBTQ; it seems like a new being is emerging. The difference in their existence is that a new species is emerging.

This had my attention. This new group is not male or female. The world is starting to accept the concept, with some still fighting the idea. Now that has happened this new species of humans has emerged, we are listening and paying attention to what is happening.

If another species emerged on our planet from a spaceship hypothetically, we would freak out. We would want to know how it would impact our lives here on earth. Socially, religiously and a host of other ways. This is happening right now families are coming apart because they do not understand. Many mothers and fathers could not believe they could produce that type of person. Families who are struggling with this new phenomenon you were chosen to bring this new species of human to this world. Nothing you did wrong.   Think about it, all the things that the community is going through right now. I think the universe is preparing us for the future of a new existence. I know that this sounds crazy, but it is a thought. The universe created males and females, and he is always improving on its designs and adding to his creations. Just ask the scientist they are still discovering. There is another species. We haven’t met them yet, or have we?  This feature is in celebration of change and differences.

 

 

Getting Better


   At the tender age of sixty seven I find myself forgiving me for my life and existence. I have lost so much , mainly my children. For almost a year I think about my son who would come and get me just because.  Never thought every time I passed the building he passed away in I could feel him. That passing his name in the contacts would make me cry because the empty movement would produce his voice. We talked about his children that made his world. That their mothers made him think deeper about their motives. He loved them……. I know that from our conversations. Yes, I had my opinion “pick one” but he could not his children made that impossible. I believe in my son, even when his opinion was wrong. His friends made his life worth while he told me about each one. Only one was his best, looking out for him as brother since they were young.  Yet he took another brother under his wing who considered him family.

His name is constant in his life. “Hey mom, going to make you laugh.” and he did. I hear his voice calling my name. I see the mist of his spirit right in my face and I cry like right now. It took me until now to be able to write these few words. We would ride pointing out the car he aims to possess. This would be a gift to himself. He wanted to have a house built in South Carolina, I would rent a room for vacation, “you don’t have to rent.” he said. What he did not understand is if I could pay a hotel to stay there I could pay him. Besides his accommondations would have been luxury compared. He had kids and they needed things. I admired him as a father who surprise me. He brought me his first born, she a newborn, with a then nylon blanket wrapped in the bitter cold. He  seeks me out to get advice on what she would need.  A large blanket, snow suit, sox shoes, lots of heavy blankets and without a doubt a hat to cover that soft spot at the top her head. I gave words of wisdom. “Son,  look at her. She looks to you to give her what she needs.”  Don’t wait for anyone to get or do for her, you come with what she needs. When she cries is because something is wrong. She cried every time she saw me.  Advice that he used amazingly with all his children.

I think that I am drifting through life like on a ship to nowhere. I wish that when you leave the planet that you should be able to call just to hear what’s happening with them.  That is all I have to say for right now. Stay tuned, there is more.

Memories

Memories This is just a small design of a memoir. History in its design, drama, and comedy. It reveals who you are while dealing with life’s ironies.  Think, how would you write a book. This book has so many memories of my life. I needed to tell someone about the things I experience as an African American child Born in Washington, DC  and ended up in North Philadelphia.  How the influences in my life define who I am as a person.  This book is a promise to God that I would write and publish my book. What would I write. I was already writing poetry.  Purging my inner thoughts. 1800 Indigo House  Excerpt from a life.  A history in poetry, self-published on LULU.com. If you are “writer” you must ask yourself, what is my book about and what is it I want to say. Sit quietly and listen. Memories of events were rising to the top, and I started writing in lyrical poetry that stream close to my heart.

 

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