Felicia Denise's Blog, page 48
February 10, 2018
Oscar D. Micheaux | Black Filmmaker
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Oscar Devereaux Micheaux January 2, 1884 – March 25, 1951) was an African American author, film director and independent producer of more than 44 films. Although the short-lived Lincoln Motion Picture Company was the first movie company owned and controlled by black filmmakers, Micheaux is regarded as the first major African-American feature filmmaker, a prominent producer of race film, and has been described as “the most successful African-American filmmaker of the first half of the 20th century”. He produced both silent films and sound films when the industry changed to incorporate speaking actors.
From Wikipedia and Google
February 9, 2018
Interview with Sarina Chandler from the upcoming “Family Matters (In the Best Interest of the Child, Book 2)”
Good day, WordPress bloggers and authors! Today we welcome a very special guest to the blog—Sarina Chandler, from the upcoming Family Matters (In the Best Interest of the Child, Book 2). Sarina is the mother of Books 1 & 2 protagonist, Olivia Chandler.
SC: Excuse me?
FD: Yes, Mrs. Chandler?
SC: Well… technically, I was in book 1, too.
FD: Yes, ma’am you were. But only in a flashback or two, and you weren’t… um, yourself. I thought it best to not approach the subject.
SC: Oh, please! Now you sound like my daughter, not approaching the subject! I was crazy as a loon, out of my mind, off my rocker! It’s not as if I planned it or wanted to be committed to an institution and leave my daughter.
FD: Of course not, ma’am. I’m sorry.
SC: Please call me Sarina… and I’m the one who should be apologizing. I shouldn’t have been short with you. It’s just… I’ve missed most of Olivia’s life and a big part of my own. It angers me, I just have no one to be angry with.
FD: May I ask… when did your mind begin to clear?
SC: It’s been… about a year.
FD: What was the first thing you remembered, Sarina?
SC: *Looks down, fidgets with hands* The accident.
FD: Sarina, if this is too much for you…
SC: No, it’s fine. I’m fine. I’ve been silent for a third of my life. I need to talk, but if you don’t mind, I’d like to share that story first with my daughter. I owe her that… she deserves that.
FD: Not a problem, Sarina. Glad to hear Olivia is coming to see you.
SC: Well…
FD: Sarina?
SC: I don’t know for a fact she is coming.
FD: Pardon?
SC: I talked with Willis a few weeks ago. Willis Benson, the administrator of my husband’s estate. He and Olivia are close. I asked him to see if my daughter would visit me. But… it’s… been a few weeks now, and nothing.
FD: I’m sorry.
SC: Ugh! Stop apologizing already! Olivia and I were separated twenty-eight-years ago! I can’t expect her to make a quick decision for something like this.
FD: Why do you feel it’s such a difficult decision for her?
SC: Felicia, you know the last time I saw my daughter she was a ten-year-old. We had no other family and when I voluntarily came here… Olivia spent time in foster care. I’m told she last visited me five years ago… and I didn’t know who she was. I’m sure she has some resentment issues with me… and I can’t blame her.
FD: Is there a specific reason you want to see your daughter, Olivia, other than simply a mother missing her child?
SC: *Sighs* I need to apologize to her… for leaving her. While it wasn’t intentional or could have been changed, I still left her. Even if she never forgives me or sees me as her mother, I have to say the words.
FD: Why is that so important to you, Sarina?
SC: I had… issues with my parents. Before Ben and I married, I hated them. Afterward, I reached out to them for a fresh start but was ignored. I gave up, but if my mom had softened just a little and acted like she cared about me, I would have been there for her. It never happened. I don’t want to hide behind the walls of this place and allow Olivia to believe I don’t love her. I must try.
FD: I’m sure you will, Sarina. I’m sure you will. I hope Olivia decides to see you.
SC: So do I, Felicia.
FD: Thank you for visiting with us today, Sarina. I know it wasn’t easy.
SC: It’s easier than accepting I’ll never see my child again. She just has to come.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Child-advocate attorney Olivia Chandler has made major progress in overcoming her childhood trauma and issues with abandonment. However, her refusal to see her mother is having a negative impact on her new romance with Bruce Bellamy and everyone Olivia is close to.
Olivia enters specialized counseling for adults who suffer from childhood trauma but hinders her own progress when a major loss sends her spiraling back into the emotional comfort of the shadows in her mind.
With her sanity at risk, Olivia Chandler needs answers to break free from the traumatic stress which holds her captive, but the answers lie with the one person Olivia refuses to see.
Sarina Chandler.
Olivia Chandler’s journey continues in Family Matters (In the Best Interest of the Child, Book 2), coming soon.
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Find out the back story.
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“In the Best Interest of the Child”
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Living With Invisible Illness: Hostage
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Failed plans.
Missed appointments.
I’m labeled rude, uncaring, and arrogant.
Invitations dwindle then disappear.
It’s not my fault.
I’m not to blame.
I’m a prisoner, held hostage in my own body by an illness most can’t pronounce, and even fewer understand.
No dinner.
Piles of laundry.
I’m labeled lazy and entitled.
Family and friends give my mister sympathetic looks which mean, “We know it’s not you.”
It’s not my fault.
I’m not to blame.
I’m a prisoner, held hostage in my own body by an illness which hides just below the surface. A master of disguise, it leads doctors on a merry chase taking my energy and thoughts with it… and leaving pain in its wake.
More tests.
More co-pays.
More pills.
More dubious looks from the very people who are supposed to understand this shit.
More dumbass questions and asinine statements. “Don’t you want you get better? You need to work with us, not against us.”
Enough!
It’s not my fault!
I’m not to blame!
I’m a prisoner, held hostage in my own body by an illness the medical community would rather dose, debate—and some, even debunk—than find a real cure for!
No more tests!
No more co-pays!
I don’t want your pills!
I want back the life I had!
I want to attend graduations and weddings!
I want to take my nephew to the park!
I want to take my dog for a walk!
I want to put on heels and go dancing!
I want to clean my house, plant my garden, and shop without needing assistance or risking a two-day flare-up!
I want to leave my home without concern for the distance from the parking lot to my destination!
I don’t want the pitying looks!
I don’t need the snide remarks!
And if one more asshole says, “You’re so lucky you don’t have to work, I will lose my shit!
And I will make no apologies…
…because it’s not my fault!
I’m not to blame!
I’m a prisoner, held hostage in my own body by an illness I cannot escape.
And, while it may drain my energy and steal my thoughts, it will not take my soul.
And no one will take my dignity.
©2018 Felicia Denise, All Rights Reserved
Happy Birthday, Alice Walker!
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Alice Malsenior Walker, born in Eatonton, Georgia on February 9, 1944, the eighth and youngest child of Minnie Tallulah Grant and Willie Lee Walker, is an African American novelist, short-story writer, poet, essayist, and activist. Her most famous novel, The Color Purple, was awarded the Pulitzer Prize and the National Book Award in 1983. Walker’s creative vision is rooted in the economic hardship, racial terror, and folk wisdom of African American life and culture, particularly in the rural South.
Her writing explores multidimensional kinships among women and embraces the redemptive power of social and political revolution.
Walker began publishing her fiction and poetry during the latter years of the Black Arts movement in the 1960s. Her work, along with that of such writers as Toni Morrison and Gloria Naylor, however, is commonly associated with the post-1970s surge in African American women’s literature.
Official Website – Alice Walker’s Garden
Quotes
“The most common way people give up their power is by thinking they don’t have any.”
“I think it pisses God off if you walk by the color purple in a field somewhere and don’t notice it.”
From Encyclopedia Britannica. Google and Wikipedia.
February 8, 2018
It’s Time
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In book 1 of In the Best Interest of the Child, child advocate attorney, Olivia Chandler, finally admits she can no longer hide from the childhood trauma which took her father, incapacitated her mother and landed Olivia in foster care. In the upcoming book 2, Family Matters, Olivia takes hesitant steps toward mental wellness. This is a short, unedited excerpt.
It wasn’t too late to back out.
After the emotional upheaval Olivia Chandler experienced while handling the Averest case, re-entering counseling seemed like a sound idea. Olivia knew she had avoided her personal demons for far too long. Sorting through her issues with the past and laying them to rest was the only way she could move on to a future which was hers for the taking.
A future with Bruce.
However, now as the elevator neared the tenth floor of the Monarch Mental Health Center, Olivia wasn’t so sure.
What would she gain from talking about the period in her life where she suffered the most? Why had she promised Bruce she would do this? They could be happy together without her going through this.
The whisper-quiet, stainless steel doors parted and the conflicted attorney knew what she had to do.
Olivia stepped out of the lift and looked around for suite numbers. After a quick glance at the floor directory, she headed for suite 1055.
The familiar anxiety buzzing behind her ears reminded Olivia why she would not back out of counseling.
She was tired.
Even without the Rena Averest case… and Bruce Bellamy entering her life, Olivia Chandler always knew there would be a day of reckoning, and a battle for her soul and sanity.
Until a few short weeks ago, it was a battle Olivia expected to lose.
Olivia gave herself a last-minute pep talk as she entered suite 1055.
It’s time, Chandler. No more excuses. You promised Bellamy you would do this, but this is for you and no one else.
The center of the room held two black love-seats and a large, flat screen television. A tunnel slide sat in the corner on the right side of the room between a wall of books and a wall of cubbies filled with toys. Two round tables covered with puzzles sat in the opposite corner.
Waiting was sometimes a necessary annoyance, but Leo and Diane Payton had given considerable thought to their clients’ time when decorating this room. Olivia was impressed.
Walking up to the reception window, Olivia saw a middle-aged woman approach from the other side of the counter.
“Olivia Chandler?”
Olivia recognized the warm voice from her first phone call. “Yes. Marilyn?”
“Tis’ I!
The women shared a laugh and shook hands.
“Good to meet you, at last, Ms. Chandler.”
“No, no! It’s Olivia… please.”
Okay, Olivia. I must commend you on completing your online questionnaire. I realize some of the questions can be exhausting, but I’ve never seen one as complete as yours in the seventeen years I’ve been here.”
Olivia averted her eyes while fiddling with her earring. “I don’t know if that’s good or bad, Marilyn.”
“Trust me, it’s a good thing.”
Nodding once, Olivia watched as Marilyn reached for a file folder.
“I’ve printed everything out, Olivia. I just need your signature in a few places and we’re all set.”
Minutes later, consent papers signed, Olivia sat on the black leather love seat listening to the host of a cooking show rave about the flavor of beer can chicken.
Beads of sweat inched down Olivia’s back.
A hum buzzed behind her left ear and grew in intensity until it caused Olivia physical pain.
She crossed and uncrossed her legs at the ankle while tugging on the hem of her skirt.
The warm, metallic taste of bile tickled the back of Olivia’s throat and she glanced around the waiting room. Seeing a restroom sign perched high on a door in the corner of the children’s play area, Olivia judged the distance from her seat.
Annoyed with herself, she swallowed, determined to fight off the anxiety and nausea.
What is it with you, Chandler? Sitting here getting all worked up and trying to find reasons to run out the door when you need this! You need to rid yourself of this dark baggage. Leaving now will only keep you rooted in the same spot you’ve been in since — …
“Stop that.”
Startled and embarrassed, Olivia looked in the direction the voice came from.
A Rubenesque African American woman stood near the reception counter, a file in one hand and a knowing smirk on her face. She approached Olivia.
“Excuse me? Stop what?”
“Stop trying to talk yourself into leaving… or staying.”
Stunned she was so well read by a stranger, Olivia faltered.
“D-Does this happen to everyone on their first visit?”
Stopping in front of Olivia, the woman smiled and shook her head.
“It happens to anyone doing something they’re not sure they want to do.”
She extended her hand. “I’m Diane Payton.”
Olivia rose and shook Diane’s hand.
“Nice to meet you, Diane. Olivia Chandler. Does it ever happen to you?”
Gesturing for Olivia to follow her, Diane Payton responded.
“Of course! Every single time we take our children to an amusement park, or the zoo, or the skating rink.”
Olivia followed Diane down a long hallway.
“I ask myself, “Do you want to be trapped with your children and thousands of rude strangers all day?”
Two closed doors stood at the end of the hallway. Diane opened the door to the right and motioned for Olivia to enter first.
“What do you decide, Diane?”
The therapist entered and closed the door behind her.
“Oh, no way do I want to be in any of those situations! But at the end of the day in the van when I’m tired and sweaty and my feet hurt, I look over at my husband, happy and relaxed driving us home. I look in the back seats at our tribe already sleeping like the dead after having a great day,” she shrugged, “and I think I was crazy for not wanting to come, and look forward to making more memories with my family.”
Diane tilted her head toward conversational chairs across the room.
“C’mon, Olivia. Let’s talk.”
The buzzing in her ears had stopped and bile no longer tried to claw its way out of her stomach. But as Olivia Chandler crossed the room, her steps were slow and weighted, part of her mind still rebelling against being in Diane Payton’s office.
And it was that part of her mind Olivia pushed back against and took a seat.
©2017 Felicia Denise
February 7, 2018
The Visit
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Scene from the Upcoming Family Matters. Still struggling to overcome her issues of abandonment and salvage her personal life… and sanity, attorney Olivia Chandler attempts to visit the mother she hasn’t seen in five years and who’s been a resident at a private mental facility for almost thirty years.
“Olivia Chandler? I’m Sandra Riley, Sarina’s case manager.”
The tall woman grasped Olivia’s hand into both of her own, shaking briskly. “We’re so glad you’re here today. This is a big step forward for your mother.”
“Nice to meet you, Sandra, and honestly, it’s a big step for me too.”
“Oh, I’m sure, Olivia. Any questions for me before you visit with Sarina?”
Visit with Sarina. She made it sound so cute and homey, Olivia thought.
“Does she know I planned to be here today?”
“Yes, she does. When Sarina asked about you a few weeks ago, she said she also knew you’d have little or no reason to want to see her, but she’d always hoped you come someday.””
Olivia stared at the woman blankly, not knowing how to respond to the comment.
“I’m sure this is confusing, Olivia, and now isn’t the time for me to explain all that Sarina has gone through, but please know she is fully cognizant of her aging, of you, her late husband”, Sandra paused only for a second, “she even remembers the accident. It’s everything between the accident and a few months ago that’s fuzzy for her. It’s as though a switch was flipped off in her brain that was recently turned back on.”
Olivia frowned but didn’t ask the question on the tip of her tongue.
“May I see her now?”
“Of course! Follow me.”
The case manager’s long legs covered the distance across the sitting area in no time at all, with Olivia almost scurrying to keep up with her. Margot and Randie were always teasing Olivia about her brisk walking pace, but she had nothing on Sandra Riley! Olivia would guess Sandra to be at least six feet tall… and light on her feet.
Reaching an unmarked door in the far corner, Sandra held it open for Olivia, who walked through and found herself standing in yet another sitting room, only this one resembled the average family room. Large, overstuffed chairs, throw rugs and even a flat screen television graced the area.
“Welcome to Honey Ridge East, Olivia.”
“Honey Ridge East? I don’t understand.”
Sandra pointed to a bulletin board on the wall near the door they’d just come through.
“The residents here are grouped by floor, the severity of mental disorder, and the amount of care and supervision needed. The healthiest, most independent residents reside here in Honey Ridge.”
“My mother is here…in this section?”
She nodded.
Olivia tried to digest the information. Her mother was healthy? Required little or no supervision? Trying to reconcile this new Sarina with the bedridden, incoherent woman she last saw five years ago was difficult for Olivia.
“How long has she lived here?”
Sandra pursed her lips, thinking. Then she nodded.
“I’m pretty sure Sarina was here for the group’s Valentine’s Day dinner dance, so that makes it eight months.” Sandra tried not to laugh at the horrified expression on Olivia’s face.
“Don’t be shocked. We also have Easter Egg hunts and 4th of July barbecues. Most of the residents have signed up for hayrides next week for Halloween, and…” she leaned in towards Olivia, “I heard Santa will visit on Christmas Eve.”
Shaking her head, Olivia was incredulous.
“What kind of mental hospital is this? I mean, um…I thought…”
The case manager guided Olivia past the sitting area while answering.
“River Ridge Meadows is a private care, private pay, voluntary commitment facility. We’re fully licensed by the state and the federal government. Insurance isn’t accepted here, and no resident is here against their will. We currently have one hundred and sixty-one residents ranging in age from seven to eighty-six. Most are from throughout the state, but there are a few from other parts of the country, and even four from Europe. River Ridge has two permanent, board certified psychiatrists, two permanent, board certified medical doctors, six psychologists, and a nursing staff of 40 that includes licensed physical therapists.
The residents here are used to a certain way of life, and we provide that here, within reason. That’s why we also have an event planner and a social activities director on staff.”
Sandra stopped at the top end of a short hallway. “But we have all the time in the world for me to tell you about River Ridge, and even give you a tour, if you like.” She nodded towards the end of the hall. “Your mother is expecting you.”
Olivia pressed her hand against her stomach, the tiny nervous tremors threatening to morph into a full-fledged earthquake. Heat enveloped her body as the familiar tang of bile crept up the back of her throat. Closing her eyes, the nervous woman tried to will the anxiety away.
You’ve come this far, Chandler, don’t you dare freak out now!
©2017 Felicia Denise, All Rights Reserved
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Wordless Wednesday
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Image from Pixabay
February 6, 2018
I Wrote a Drabble!
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I wrote my first drabble!
YAAY, me, right?
Wait. Don’t you know what a drabble is? It’s a short story written in 100 words or less, and it’s easier said than done.
I’d never heard of it either until a couple of weeks ago when I saw this post on Connie J. Jasperson’s Life in the Realm of Fantasy. Do you follow Connie? You should. She gives great writing advice… with examples!
After reading Connie’s post, I went on a drabble info search.
Google drabbles. I dare you! The search returns were mind-boggling. I felt like the planet was drabbling (← I have NO idea if that’s a word!) without me!
What’s the point of drabbles?
You’ll find several reasons listed on Connie’s blog, but prime for me is there is no room for anything which doesn’t move the story forward. Words must be chosen with much thought… because you can’t use more than a hundred.
If you’ve read anything by me, you know I have a love affair with the written word and don’t believe there can ever be too many, wonderful, glorious words! *Glares at last sentence* So, um… yeah.
I give you… my first drabble!
~~~~~
Calling His Bluff – Drabble #1
She removed her scarf and wiped her brow. The apple tree’s shade did little to protect her from the oppressive heat.
“Raelene – ”
“I’m done with this, Willie. Daddy is sick and needs me here to run the orchard. I can’t marry you.”
“He ain’t sick, Raelene! His mind is gone. He’s never getting better. Sell this land and put him in a nursing home.”
“No.”
“I thought you wanted to be with me?” He smirked. “Patty Walters would love to marry me.”
Raelene grabbed her basket. “I hope you and Patty have a nice life.”
She walked away… relieved.
~~~~~
Okay, so I didn’t redefine drabbles, but… I did have the key elements: a setting, one or more characters, conflict, and resolution.
It’s a start!
I feel an obsession coming on. You know, after all my other writing obligations. Averts eyes.
On average, drabbles will take about an hour to write.
It took me longer than that. A lot longer.
But don’t tell Connie.
©2018 Felicia Denise, All Rights Reserved
Quotable – Malcolm X
Malcolm X, (1925-1965) born Malcolm Little and later also known as el-Hajj Malik el-Shabazz, was an African-American Muslim minister and human rights activist. Image from The Source
“You can’t separate peace from freedom because no one can be at peace unless he has his freedom.”
“You’re not to be so blind with patriotism that you can’t face reality. Wrong is wrong, no matter who does it or says it.”
“If you don’t stand for something you will fall for anything.”
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February 5, 2018
“Thinking It Through”
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Excerpt from ongoing WIP. Title updated from For Worse to Heartburn. This scene occurs after No Excuses but before the scenes with Quinn’s mother and brother, Good Morning, Mother and Hypocrite. Everyone confused? Alright!
Knowing the outreach center was in west L.A., Quinn found it after only two searches.
Finally acknowledging a Clinton Clark did receive occasional treatment there, the kind, but resolute center director, Vince, would not give Quinn any more information as he walked her to the door.
“Please understand, miss. Most of our vets experienced trauma that has yet to end for them. Some are at the lowest points in their lives and vulnerable. All sorts of folks come in pretending to be family or close friends… just to get a signature on divorce papers, land deeds, and bank accounts. One poor fella thought he was updating his son’s insurance, when in fact, he was signing away his parental rights.”
Quinn couldn’t hide her stunned expression.
Vince rested his hand on the door handle. “I know it sounds deplorable… because it is. But those kinds of situations happen more than the public is aware of. We have to do what we can to protect our vets.”
Quinn thanked the man as he held the door for her. She was glad Clinton had someone looking out for him, but Quinn was determined. She would see her brother.
She talked with Mike Matthews during her drive home. Giving him the short version of her evening, Mike didn’t give her a chance to ask for time off.
“Take all the time you need, Landon. You’ve always got my back. And besides, without you here putting out all the office fires, I get to see what the rest of this team knows… or doesn’t.”
They shared a chuckle before Quinn ended the call, grateful for a boss like Mike.
Quinn was grateful again when she pulled into her South Pasadena driveway, but for a different reason.
Oscar had not returned from her parents’ home yet.
Entering the mud room from the garage, she hoped he would opt to go to his parents’ home instead of coming home at all.
Or to see his newest side piece.
The revelation of his latest affair and his limp, unapologetic apology changed Quinn Landon.
It wasn’t Oscar’s first affair, but it was the first time blame was laid squarely on her shoulders by her parents.
They reasoned if Quinn quit her job and left the stresses of work behind, she’d get pregnant, and Oscar would be happy.
Like hell.
Finding an airline ticket stub and hotel receipts from San Diego were the swan song for the Landon marriage.
It was insult enough Quinn knew the trip was funded by money from their joint account… the money she worked for and saved… but it was the same weekend Oscar backed out of their planned trip to northern California for a jazz festival.
Oscar Landon had no intention of changing his adulterous ways.
She made a turkey sandwich, grabbed a bottle of Perrier and headed for her bedroom.
Making sure the bedroom door was locked, Quinn wolfed down her sandwich and took a quick shower. She threw on her favorite Green Bay Packers jersey and placed a pair of jeans and a light sweater for tomorrow at her dressing table.
Quinn spent the next two hours in her work email—responding to inquiries and clearing up pressing matters.
Her eyelids became heavy as fatigue washed over her.
Activating her out-of-office email response, Quinn placed her tablet on the nightstand and crawled into bed. She had almost drifted off when she heard the front door. Moments later, there was a soft tap on the bedroom door.
Ignoring her husband, Quinn turned over and let sleep take her.
Awaking before her alarm clock sounded five short hours later, Quinn laid in bed staring out her east-facing bedroom window as the sun began its ascent. The golden rays peeking through the trees energized Quinn and gave her strength.
She would call Morris Dabney next week. This time, Quinn would go through with the divorce. No amount of badgering or guilt trips from the Clark and Landon families would stop her this time.
Quinn rose and made her bed as she organized her thoughts.
She couldn’t remember what it felt like to love her husband unconditionally. Oscar’s endless lies halted Quinn’s love from growing. His disrespect of her and their marriage vows broke her heart and soured the happiness Quinn once enjoyed.
But it was Oscar’s determination to play the victim and join their families in blaming Quinn for his many dalliances which turned Quinn’s once full heart to a hardened pebble, beating enough only to maintain her existence.
Slipping into her jeans and sweater, Quinn found her favorite dark brown hiking boots in the back of her closet.
Dressed, she stood in front of the window lost in thought.
She needed to put the house on the market. She didn’t want any memories of any time shared with Oscar Landon and he couldn’t afford the house on a school administrator’s salary.
The loud chime of We Are Family snapped Quinn from her reverie.
Not in the mood to talk with any of her family, she grabbed her keys, put her phone on silent and headed for the outreach center.
Nothing would stop Quinn from seeing her brother today.
©2017 Felicia Denise
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