It's night time. Your son leaves the house to go to the store to buy Skittles and an iced tea. He never comes back. Instead, the police come to your doorstep and tell you that your son is dead. For what? He isn't gang affiliated. He isn't involved with drugs. He walks the streets unarmed. The police tell you that the head of Neighborhood Watch said that he was walking around "looking suspicious." When he left the house he was wearing a black hoodie. Apparently, that is reason enough for the police to come to your door and tell you that your son is dead. In addition, they tell you they won't be arresting the shooter because there is not probable cause to arrest him, and the person who shot him has a college degree. They bid you goodnight, leaving you and your feelings standing there with your mouth agape.
By now we have all heard the story of Trayvon Martin. We've all seen and signed the petition. Right...? Right?
If you haven't, you can click the link and do so NOW http://www.change.org/petitions/prosecute-the-killer-of-our-son-17-year-old-trayvon-martin?utm_medium=facebook&utm_source=share_petition&utm_term=friends_wall
We have heard the story, and we are outraged. We're confused. We're hurt. More than anything, we are wondering when racism will come to an end. Parents are wondering when they should expect this to happen to their children. Can we as parents even allow our children to leave the house? We've heard the tapes. We've reviewed the facts. Trayvon exited the store and began walking. It doesn't matter where he was going. The only things he carried on his person were Skittles and an iced tea. George Zimmerman, the self-appointed head of Neighborhood Watch, is sitting in his SUV and decides that he feels threatened by Trayvon's presence. Sitting in a vehicle, he feels threatened by someone who is walking down the street, minding his own business. Trayvon is on his cell phone, not paying George Zimmerman a bit of attention. Perhaps he felt himself being watched and made eye contact with the person staring at him. That's not really a threatening move. He puts his hoody over his head and kept walking. Zimmerman calls the police on a non-emergency number. If he truly felt threatened, wouldn't 911 be the correct number to call? The police tell him not to pursuit the person who is "threatening" him. Zimmerman gets out of the car anyway, proclaiming, "They always get away...Those people need to pay."
Who are "they?" What people is he referring to?
And then, like all people who truly feel threatened by someone, Zimmerman gets out of his car and chases Trayvon. During his pursuit, he even calls Trayvon a coon. Because he is being pursued, Trayvon calls 911, screaming for his life. It's not use. He is shot in his chest and killed.
There are several problems with this story. For one, how can someone who is chasing a person feel threatened? How can an unarmed person be a threat to a person with a gun? Then there is the obvious issue: Trayvon is a child. Zimmerman is a grown man. The issue of self-defense must also be factored into this. In order for it to be self-defense, doesn't a person have to be attacked? Sitting somewhere in your car puts you in a pretty odd position to be attacked by someone who is unarmed and minding his own business. The law of self-defense states that in order for that to stick a person has to be shot in both legs. Trayvon Martin was shot in his chest. Let's not forget that he was chased down to the final minutes of his life.
People are coming with the weak defense about the way he was dressed. Who cares how he was dressed? Yes, there are some rowdy teens out there. Yes, there are times when men dressed in hoodies make us feel uncomfortable. Those men have to be doing something other than minding their own business to have any effect on me. If those people do something threatening to me, I don't chase them down and shoot them. I cross the street and walk a little faster. It's never what they're wearing. It's their actions that make me feel like I need to take action against them. They don't deserve to have their lives taken unless they first try to take mine. Trayvon didn't do this.
Yet Zimmerman has not been arrested. They say it's not a race issue. Those of us who are not in denial can accept the truth. We can liken this to the story of Emmit Till and realized that nothing has changed between 1955 and 2012. The fact that we have to get a petition signed to get the right thing done causes us to sit here in disgust. As parents we wonder if our child will be next. Why is this child killer allowed to walk free? Because he has a college degree? We don't buy that. As parents we don't want to know if the outcome would be different if the tables were turned. We don't want to think of another child's life to be taken just to prove a point. What we want is an understanding. Why are parents burying their children? What was so threatening about the bag of Skittles he was carrying? Should we stop allowing our children to buy Skittles? First we had to teach our children that Officer Friendly is a bigger myth than Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, and the Tooth Fairy combined; now we also have to tell them that Neighborhood Watch is really watching and waiting for an opportunity to take their lives. The people who are supposed to protect them are their worst enemies. We the parents don't understand this. We shouldn't have to. No one should.
Once again, please sign the petition to have George Zimmerman arrested and prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law, please click the link: http://www.change.org/petitions/prosecute-the-killer-of-our-son-17-year-old-trayvon-martin?utm_medium=facebook&utm_source=share_petition&utm_term=friends_wall
Wednesday, March 21, 2012
Sunday, March 18, 2012
Descendants of Excellence
I have to giggle, because what I'm about to say makes me feel old as dirt. Last week I read the best book I have read this century: They Tell Me of a Home by Daniel Black. The storyline wasn't what made this book great. Of course it was interesting, but there was so much more to this book than just a story. This book was a piece of LITERATURE. It was what Sojourner Truth died for us to be able to do. It was what Alice Walker was paving the way for. I'm sure Ralph Ellison smiled down on this book once it was published. The plot and setting created a movie in the mind of the reader. A person was able to feel, think, smell, and see exactly what was going on in this little town. Rather than making the reader think his or her friend was just telling one long story, They Tell Me of a Home engaged the reader in a series of events. The book sparked the desire to change. It made the question "Why?" be asked over and over again. This is what real literature is made of. It saddens me that more books written in modern times don't possess this quality.
Having only one book published, I'm still learning, still growing, and still developing myself as a writer. However, I've been reading since the '80's. I know what makes a book good and what makes a book excellent. I'm not trying to be mean or slander the reputations of anyone who has published a book. I just want us to put more effort into our quality. Daniel Black did just that. There are other authors, however, who don't, and it's disheartening. The English language has been butchered. The books read like the transcript of a "Girllll, lemme tell you..." telephone conversation between two girlfriends. Getting lost in them doesn't happen as often as the need to the end of them. It's sad. Their subject matter sounds like something we can relate to. Then in the midst of all the label dropping, bad spelling, misuse of homophones, and inconsistency in story, the audience loses interest. Once upon a time, those who were gifted in writing wrote. In present time, anyone who seeks a quick come-up puts a book out. No matter how mediocre the quality, they put it out. If the person is popular enough the book sells. Those whose hearts and souls are in this, who are doing this for the love and not the fortune and fame, are left sitting on the proverbial shelves collecting dust.
What's really sad is when a person possesses talent but won't take the time to develop it. Paying for editing isn't even given a second thought. They have a good story but aren't grammatically gifted. The good story is ruined by events that are inconsistent with the time period in which their books are set. They don't know the difference between "want" and "won't." At the beginning of the sentence, Veronica is speaking, but somehow the tagline is marked with Dana's name. We authors love burning the midnight oil. Some of our best ideas come to us after one a.m. That doesn't mean we can send it to be published first thing in the morning. At the very least, we can get a second set of eyes to look at it and make sure all of our ducks are in a row.
They Tell Me of a Home really made me feel bad about not majoring in English in college. I felt like the main character's craft was so polished. Formal training seemed to take his talent and turn it into something brilliant. I was left wondering if my writing was lacking something because it was never sharpened with an English degree. My professors in college always read my writing and told me I was in the wrong field. Even though I held a 4.0 GPA, they could tell by the way my papers were written that my heart was in Language Arts. They were 100% correct, but writing doesn't pay the bills. Now I do it on the side, but I wonder what level my writing would be on today if I took it to a university and let them mold it. I guess it's too late for "what if's" now, but when I look at work I'm disappointed in I can't help but wonder what flaws are in mine.
As African-American writers, we are the descendants of excellence. Booker T. Washington, Mildred D. Taylor, Sojourner Truth, Ralph Ellison, and the like did not pave the way for us to produce mediocrity. I know we say, "It's just a word; stop being so anal," but there's more to it than that. We want to get our people back into reading. By writing about things that our people see in everyday life we are doing just that. Then we speak of things our people dream of seeing. But we spend so much time promoting the names of designers who could care less about us, not paying attention to detail, and trying to make every character a superstar that we forget what writing is supposed to do: change lives. We need to go back to memorable characters like Miss Celie, Cassie Logan, T.L., etc., who were able to make an impact on our hearts and minds. We put out poorly formatted books, and it's insulting to the readers who have spent their hard-earned money on supporting our efforts. We say, "Who cares if I used the wrong form of 'their'? It's urban fiction, not a college essay." What we're really saying is we don't give a crap about those who fought for us to be educated and those who fought for us to be able to legally know how to read and write. Forget all of those who are learning from us. All they need is a book. They don't need it to be great. None of this is true. We are the descendants of excellence. We should be standing on the foundation that was given to us and building toward the next level. Let's do better.
Having only one book published, I'm still learning, still growing, and still developing myself as a writer. However, I've been reading since the '80's. I know what makes a book good and what makes a book excellent. I'm not trying to be mean or slander the reputations of anyone who has published a book. I just want us to put more effort into our quality. Daniel Black did just that. There are other authors, however, who don't, and it's disheartening. The English language has been butchered. The books read like the transcript of a "Girllll, lemme tell you..." telephone conversation between two girlfriends. Getting lost in them doesn't happen as often as the need to the end of them. It's sad. Their subject matter sounds like something we can relate to. Then in the midst of all the label dropping, bad spelling, misuse of homophones, and inconsistency in story, the audience loses interest. Once upon a time, those who were gifted in writing wrote. In present time, anyone who seeks a quick come-up puts a book out. No matter how mediocre the quality, they put it out. If the person is popular enough the book sells. Those whose hearts and souls are in this, who are doing this for the love and not the fortune and fame, are left sitting on the proverbial shelves collecting dust.
What's really sad is when a person possesses talent but won't take the time to develop it. Paying for editing isn't even given a second thought. They have a good story but aren't grammatically gifted. The good story is ruined by events that are inconsistent with the time period in which their books are set. They don't know the difference between "want" and "won't." At the beginning of the sentence, Veronica is speaking, but somehow the tagline is marked with Dana's name. We authors love burning the midnight oil. Some of our best ideas come to us after one a.m. That doesn't mean we can send it to be published first thing in the morning. At the very least, we can get a second set of eyes to look at it and make sure all of our ducks are in a row.
They Tell Me of a Home really made me feel bad about not majoring in English in college. I felt like the main character's craft was so polished. Formal training seemed to take his talent and turn it into something brilliant. I was left wondering if my writing was lacking something because it was never sharpened with an English degree. My professors in college always read my writing and told me I was in the wrong field. Even though I held a 4.0 GPA, they could tell by the way my papers were written that my heart was in Language Arts. They were 100% correct, but writing doesn't pay the bills. Now I do it on the side, but I wonder what level my writing would be on today if I took it to a university and let them mold it. I guess it's too late for "what if's" now, but when I look at work I'm disappointed in I can't help but wonder what flaws are in mine.
As African-American writers, we are the descendants of excellence. Booker T. Washington, Mildred D. Taylor, Sojourner Truth, Ralph Ellison, and the like did not pave the way for us to produce mediocrity. I know we say, "It's just a word; stop being so anal," but there's more to it than that. We want to get our people back into reading. By writing about things that our people see in everyday life we are doing just that. Then we speak of things our people dream of seeing. But we spend so much time promoting the names of designers who could care less about us, not paying attention to detail, and trying to make every character a superstar that we forget what writing is supposed to do: change lives. We need to go back to memorable characters like Miss Celie, Cassie Logan, T.L., etc., who were able to make an impact on our hearts and minds. We put out poorly formatted books, and it's insulting to the readers who have spent their hard-earned money on supporting our efforts. We say, "Who cares if I used the wrong form of 'their'? It's urban fiction, not a college essay." What we're really saying is we don't give a crap about those who fought for us to be educated and those who fought for us to be able to legally know how to read and write. Forget all of those who are learning from us. All they need is a book. They don't need it to be great. None of this is true. We are the descendants of excellence. We should be standing on the foundation that was given to us and building toward the next level. Let's do better.
Thursday, February 16, 2012
PSA: Children Are Not Joysticks
Until recently I looked at the single mother journey from one angle: the one I could see through my eyes only. I have two children whose fathers refuse to be a part of their lives. My oldest son's father says he doesn't have to take care of our child because he was a high school student when we conceived him. Therefore, he didn't know any better and should not be penalized as a result. He also told our son not to call him ever in life and cut off all contact with him. My ex-husband, with whom I conceived my youngest son, told me he couldn't take care of our son after our divorce because it would hurt his girlfriend's feelings. She felt him paying child support, calling our son, and spending time with our son was disrespectful toward their relationship. While I pray often the two of them will come around, I think I deserve a badge of honor for not killing either one of them. Because of them, my view on being a single mother is that she is a hero. Recently, though, I found out that every single mother doesn't deserve to be celebrated.
I never subscribed to the theory that women become single mothers because they chose the wrong men. The phrase, "She knew what she was getting into" always sounded like rubbish to me. Then I was introduced to a whole new world. In this world women have ten and eleven children, all with different fathers, and they spend their days making the fathers' lives living hells. These fathers are paying child support, yet the mothers don't allow them to see the children. The minute they get into a relationship they make their children call the new boyfriend daddy. This means that at a minimum, the oldest of eleven has called eleven different men daddy in his or her lifetime. Not cool. The minute the relationship ends the mother bashes "daddy" to all of the children. Also not cool. These things could be prevented, but in a quest to be loved they have these children in order to become attached to someone who may not necessarily be worthy of or desiring to be tied down. At the end they're left with a child. They try to use the child as a set of puppet strings. When this doesn't work they become infuriated. Their nights and days are spent harassing their children's fathers. This leaves little room for them to live their own lives. Instead of taking care of the children that they refuse to let know their fathers, they spend their days stalking the fathers' social networking pages, stalking the fathers' new girlfriends, and trying to figure out how to get more child support from the fathers. It's rarely because they need the extra money, but they are using it to hurt the fathers. This is especially true if the father has improved his life since breaking up with her.
The sad part is that this way of life is based on bitterness and the inability to control men. "Daddy issues" may play a part in it, but it's mostly because they thought their children were going to keep these men doing what they wanted. They live with this idea that as long as they have these men's children they'll have control over what's in their pants. When they find out this isn't true they become outraged.
Making a baby is a two person task. If it is in a woman's mind to have a baby with a man because she wants to control him, she should first take into consideration what she will be gaining control of. If she wants thousands of dollars in child support, she probably should find somebody who brings home thousands of dollars every pay check. It makes no sense to have a baby with the guy who laces the sneakers at Foot Locker and then try to get $1500 a week in child support from him. It ain't gonna happen. Then she says she won't allow the father to be a part of the child's life because he's not a "good, Christian man." Okay, if she didn't meet him in church she shouldn't be surprised by that. She met him in the club, on "the block," or at some party where they traded shotguns and shared a bottle of Hennessey on someone's couch all night. If she wanted some wholesome man she should have gone to church and gotten pregnant by a deacon or a saint. Then no matter how things ended between them, regardless of who was at fault, she doesn't feel he should move on. It's okay for her to have ten or eleven children, but if six or seven years later he decides to have another relationship she's going to do whatever she can to make him miserable. She still carries that bitterness and resentment from their breakup. It would be better for her to try to be civil and move on as he did.
At the end of the day she is left with a bunch of kids. Instead of cherishing them as the blessings they are, she uses them as pawns in a game. She loses every time. Not only does she lose, the children lose. Because they are nothing more to her than joysticks in her sick game, they don't get to know their fathers. All they get to learn is her side of the story. They grow up resenting men who spend years fighting to spend time with them. By the time they are old enough to learn the truth their relationships are damaged, many times beyond repair. It's a sick, sad world we live in.
I never subscribed to the theory that women become single mothers because they chose the wrong men. The phrase, "She knew what she was getting into" always sounded like rubbish to me. Then I was introduced to a whole new world. In this world women have ten and eleven children, all with different fathers, and they spend their days making the fathers' lives living hells. These fathers are paying child support, yet the mothers don't allow them to see the children. The minute they get into a relationship they make their children call the new boyfriend daddy. This means that at a minimum, the oldest of eleven has called eleven different men daddy in his or her lifetime. Not cool. The minute the relationship ends the mother bashes "daddy" to all of the children. Also not cool. These things could be prevented, but in a quest to be loved they have these children in order to become attached to someone who may not necessarily be worthy of or desiring to be tied down. At the end they're left with a child. They try to use the child as a set of puppet strings. When this doesn't work they become infuriated. Their nights and days are spent harassing their children's fathers. This leaves little room for them to live their own lives. Instead of taking care of the children that they refuse to let know their fathers, they spend their days stalking the fathers' social networking pages, stalking the fathers' new girlfriends, and trying to figure out how to get more child support from the fathers. It's rarely because they need the extra money, but they are using it to hurt the fathers. This is especially true if the father has improved his life since breaking up with her.
The sad part is that this way of life is based on bitterness and the inability to control men. "Daddy issues" may play a part in it, but it's mostly because they thought their children were going to keep these men doing what they wanted. They live with this idea that as long as they have these men's children they'll have control over what's in their pants. When they find out this isn't true they become outraged.
Making a baby is a two person task. If it is in a woman's mind to have a baby with a man because she wants to control him, she should first take into consideration what she will be gaining control of. If she wants thousands of dollars in child support, she probably should find somebody who brings home thousands of dollars every pay check. It makes no sense to have a baby with the guy who laces the sneakers at Foot Locker and then try to get $1500 a week in child support from him. It ain't gonna happen. Then she says she won't allow the father to be a part of the child's life because he's not a "good, Christian man." Okay, if she didn't meet him in church she shouldn't be surprised by that. She met him in the club, on "the block," or at some party where they traded shotguns and shared a bottle of Hennessey on someone's couch all night. If she wanted some wholesome man she should have gone to church and gotten pregnant by a deacon or a saint. Then no matter how things ended between them, regardless of who was at fault, she doesn't feel he should move on. It's okay for her to have ten or eleven children, but if six or seven years later he decides to have another relationship she's going to do whatever she can to make him miserable. She still carries that bitterness and resentment from their breakup. It would be better for her to try to be civil and move on as he did.
At the end of the day she is left with a bunch of kids. Instead of cherishing them as the blessings they are, she uses them as pawns in a game. She loses every time. Not only does she lose, the children lose. Because they are nothing more to her than joysticks in her sick game, they don't get to know their fathers. All they get to learn is her side of the story. They grow up resenting men who spend years fighting to spend time with them. By the time they are old enough to learn the truth their relationships are damaged, many times beyond repair. It's a sick, sad world we live in.
Saturday, January 7, 2012
"Love, Najae" available on Kindle for $0.99 February 1, 2012
It’s hard to see your true beauty when not even your own parents can admit that it exists. All Najae ever wanted was to be loved and to be seen as beautiful. Her parents were preoccupied loathing her existence and regretting the mistake that was her life to see that. She spent her life being her father’s secret, her stepmother’s enemy, and her mother’s lie. It took one terrible event to open everyone’s eyes to the real problem. With an ashamed father, a capitalistic whore of a stepmother, and an almost bipolar biological mother, who is she to trust for the solution?
After spending just one weekend as her father’s daughter rather than a skeleton in his closet things are changed forever. A few skeletons of her own began to seep out. They caused her to run into the arms of the only person who ever made her feel wanted. Could it be true love? Could the attention from one man compensate for fifteen years of abuse and mistreatment? Or could this road to heartbreak be the beginning of a beautiful ending?
After spending just one weekend as her father’s daughter rather than a skeleton in his closet things are changed forever. A few skeletons of her own began to seep out. They caused her to run into the arms of the only person who ever made her feel wanted. Could it be true love? Could the attention from one man compensate for fifteen years of abuse and mistreatment? Or could this road to heartbreak be the beginning of a beautiful ending?
Wanted: Role Models (Or you could make a good impression for your own damn kids).
The time to have that talk with my mother regarding the choices she made raising me is drawing nearer and nearer. When I was growing up she set the example for me to follow. She was the present, powerful force who shaped me. I may not agree with everything that she taught me. The fact remains that she did teach me. She also acted as that filter between fiction and reality until I was able to create a filter of my own. I didn't look up to people on TV because if it didn't come on Nickelodeon or TGIF then I didn't watch it. Oh there were some adult things I watched, like Dynasty and those old movies about that blonde named Tammy who had the most interesting adventures, but I watched those with my mother. I also watched music videos, but I had to sneak to do that. During the day at my grandmother's house I watched The Price Is right and soap operas. No one complained about Victor Newman and Sammie from Days of Our Lives being bad role models, because the TV wasn't raising the children. It was understood that those were adult programs. Fast forward to the present, things have changed. The media is the third and most active parent.
It seems that every time I read what's going on in the contemporary portion of the news world, someone is complaining about someone else not being a good role model for their children. Amber Rose isn't a good role model. Kim Kardashian isn't a good role model. Beyonce isn't a good role model, and neither is her fetus. Nicki Minaj isn't a good role model. It seems that a lot of people are spending their time protesting. My question is why aren't the people who are protesting these people the living example their children need? Why are they looking up to people on TV? Why do they even know who these reality show stars are? Be that person your child needs to see in order to be inspired to be someone. The time being spent complaining about celebrities and what they're doing in front of children's eyes could be spent making sure your child doesn't know who these people are. Sit down with your child and read a book. If they still have take your child to work day then participate in that. If not then spend time reinstating it. There was nothing I loved more during childhood than dressing in business clothing (there was no such thing as business casual back then; it was dress for success or stay home) and learning about working. Working. Going to a job and earning a paycheck. Spending that time made me want to grow up and get a job. Because of that I have been employed since I was fifteen years old.
As if complaining about who is and isn't a good role model isn't enough idiocy, now they're complaining about who has a Barbie designed after them. First it was Nicki Minaj. Now it's the Kardashians. They're saying, "I don't want my child to have a Kim Kardashian Barbie doll because Kim Kardashian is famous for making a sex tape and being a ho. She's no one for my child to look up to." Stop it. First of all, why is anyone's child "looking up" to a piece of plastic? I was fortunate (spoiled) enough to have every single Barbie doll Mattel made, every car, and every accessory except the Barbie Dream House (and I'm okay with not having a $200 toy; my Barbie had a town house with a porch swing). I never wanted to be Barbie, never wanted to look like Barbie, never wanted to have what Barbie had. Do you know why? Because with all the things that Barbie did, Barbie never had a job. Well, if you count Barbie and the Rockers she did, but in my mind I was a better singer than them and was going to be more successful. Also, Barbie's man was a chump. I wasn't even allowed to have a Ken Doll because he wasn't anatomically correct. (Don't ask. My uncles and my father were some disturbed people). On top of that, any time a Barbie came out that was crafted after a celebrity it was a collector's item. You couldn't tuck it. It sat in its original packaging, on a shelf until someone created something fantastic like eBay where you could sell all of your unopened toys and make 9 millions of trillions of dollars. As a child who loved to play with toys I had no interest in a doll you couldn't play with. If I could keep the shoes for more than three minutes, then that was a waste of my life and time.
So why are we so hung up on other people being role models? Why are we relying on reality TV and music to set better examples? I was raised to filter the difference between entertainment and something to pay attention to. If the person was in church, school, or the workplace then it was a safe bet I could follow that person's lead. Of course the church ripped that theory to shreds around the time I turned twelve, but that's a different blog post for a different day. If the person was on TV, I should probably laugh at them and nothing more. Not even The Cosby Show was to be taken seriously, because my mother was a disciplinarian in the physical sense. As much as I loved A Different World, not even that was to be taken seriously because almost every student in that school had parents who paid for college. After my mother landed her role as a single mother she made it clear that I should start looking for scholarships. It was she who shaped me into the person I am today, not Laura Winslow, not Lisa or Bart Simpson, not Super Mario Brothers, Denise I. Smith. She made it so that I didn't know who Amy Fisher or any other controversial person during my childhood was known to me. Why don't we get back to that form of parenting and stop worrying about what the people who are famous for nothing are doing?
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
Daddy's Little Girl...?
Najae never had to be the apple of her father's eye. All she ever wanted was for her father to look at her and speak to her without first consulting his wife. She wanted to no longer be placed under that same category of "disposable" that he placed her mother. After all, Najae came from him. Her mother was just the docile creature who let him leave her at the altar while she was still pregnant. Was Najae so wrong for wanting her father to love her despite his indifference toward her mother? Willing to accept that she would never be on as high a plane as her step-mother, acceptance from her father was the only thing Najae sought.
When her step-mother's jealousy drives her to do something that crosses the line, Najae hopes she'll finally be able to get some of the attention from her father she desires. Her mother is pretty much fed up with being treated like the "other woman" and loses interest in parenting. In the meantime Najae doesn't mind looking for love in all the wrong places so long as the result is finding someone to care about her. Through her journey some painful revelations are made. Her soul cries out for one person to take the time to notice who she is. Will anyone ever love Najae, or will the pain of continuous rejection drive her insane?
"Love, Najae" will be available on Kindle for $0.99 January 1, 2012.
When her step-mother's jealousy drives her to do something that crosses the line, Najae hopes she'll finally be able to get some of the attention from her father she desires. Her mother is pretty much fed up with being treated like the "other woman" and loses interest in parenting. In the meantime Najae doesn't mind looking for love in all the wrong places so long as the result is finding someone to care about her. Through her journey some painful revelations are made. Her soul cries out for one person to take the time to notice who she is. Will anyone ever love Najae, or will the pain of continuous rejection drive her insane?
"Love, Najae" will be available on Kindle for $0.99 January 1, 2012.
"Love, Najae" available on Kindle for $0.99 January 1, 2012
The women in Lorenzo's life were always docile, subservient creatures who lived to make him happy. That's why Jennifer always stood out to him. She came into his world and declared herself the leader. Following the plan she mapped out for his life was Heaven on Earth. When she was unwilling to bend on the one thing he dreamed of, though, it drove a wedge between them. She left to pursue her dreams on her own. He turned to submissive Cherisse whose only dreams were to become a biochemist, Lorenzo's wife, and the mother to Lorenzo's child. Just when Lorenzo and his pregnant fiancée Cherisse were heading down the aisle to their happily ever after Jennifer returned. She was going to reclaim ownership over Lorenzo's heart and mind at any cost.
Losing Jennifer the first time was a devastating blow. Losing her again was not an option. If it meant leaving behind the woman who wanted to fulfil all of his dreams along with the child they created together, then so be it. Forgetting the woman he never cared for was easy. Keeping his innocent child a secret wasn't. For fifteen years he allowed his wife to mistreat his daughter. He allowed her jealousy to dictate how much he interacted with his daughter. While he was trying to keep Jennifer happy, Najae suffered. While Cherisse tried to balance single motherhood and keeping the peace with Lorenzo and Jennifer, Najae suffered. All Najae needed in order to cure her suffering was someone to give her the love her preoccupied parents refused. All that was needed was someone to love Najae.
"Love, Najae" tells the heartbreaking tale of what happens when parents are more focused on making each other happy than they are on nurturing their children. The search for love is a torturous one when those who are supposed to give it refuse to give it. When anything will do see who Najae turns to. See what happens when rejection causes desperation.
"Love, Najae," available on Kindle for $0.99 1/1/2012.
Losing Jennifer the first time was a devastating blow. Losing her again was not an option. If it meant leaving behind the woman who wanted to fulfil all of his dreams along with the child they created together, then so be it. Forgetting the woman he never cared for was easy. Keeping his innocent child a secret wasn't. For fifteen years he allowed his wife to mistreat his daughter. He allowed her jealousy to dictate how much he interacted with his daughter. While he was trying to keep Jennifer happy, Najae suffered. While Cherisse tried to balance single motherhood and keeping the peace with Lorenzo and Jennifer, Najae suffered. All Najae needed in order to cure her suffering was someone to give her the love her preoccupied parents refused. All that was needed was someone to love Najae.
"Love, Najae" tells the heartbreaking tale of what happens when parents are more focused on making each other happy than they are on nurturing their children. The search for love is a torturous one when those who are supposed to give it refuse to give it. When anything will do see who Najae turns to. See what happens when rejection causes desperation.
"Love, Najae," available on Kindle for $0.99 1/1/2012.
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