Felicia Denise's Blog, page 76
June 21, 2017
22 Ways to Impress a First-Time Blog Reader With Any Post
by Meg Dowell
1. Tell them something they don’t know.
2. Tell them something they DO know — make it relatable.
3. Help them solve a problem.
4. Help them help someone else.
5. Help them answer a question.
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June 20, 2017
“My daddy’s dead, my mom’s in a coma and I have no one.”
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“In the Best Interest of the Child”
Author: Felicia Denise
Genre: Women’s Fiction
Release Date: September 30, 2016
What Readers Are Saying!
“Debut novelist Felicia Denise definitely knows how to capture her readers’ attention with the depths of the characters she presents along with the layers of subplots that support the main story line very well.”
“Ms. Denise has done a wonderful job on her first novel. I loved the ending; Looking forward to book 2!”
“LOVED IT!! In The Best Interest of the Child by Felicia Denise is a powerhouse novel, overflowing with emotion and real life messages…”
“Can’t wait for Book 2. This new author is incredibly talented. Suspense, romance and drama all in one book, you get it all.”
“Let me tell you, Bruce is pure charm. I have never read a male lead with more sincere charm than this man and Felicia wrote him so well…”
“Olivia Chandler is honestly the type of woman I aspire to be in life. She is strong and confident…”
Excerpt:
Rena Averest was holding in an incredible amount of emotions. Pain, loss, fear, and even anger were waging war inside her, and not knowing how to deal with them at the same time, she held them all in. Olivia had seen it too many times. She had lived it.
Livvie stared at the wall, willing her tears not to fall.
“Oh, sweetie. Please don’t be angry. It will only make you feel worse. Everyone was only thinking of what was best for you”, the nurse cooed. She reached out to touch Livvie’s arm, but stopped short and pulled her hand back.
The child met her gaze with a defiant glare.
“You wait days to tell me my daddy’s dead, and now days later, you tell me they already had his funeral.”
“Honey, you were so weak, and your social worker said it was best for everyone not to tell you at the time, and just let you get better.”
“What social worker?”
“Your social worker, Mrs. Jenkins.”
Livvie’s eyes widened.
“That tall woman with the ugly hair and mean face is my social worker?”
“Livvie! That’s not nice!”
“I only remember seeing her once, and she never looked at me… not one time. I don’t want her to be my social worker!”
The nurse sighed heavily.
“Certain decisions have to be made for you right now, Livvie, and since you’re not an adult, the state has to step in and help out.”
“What about my mom?”
The nurse looked away and smoothed the bed covers.
“She’s still in a coma, isn’t she? And you weren’t going to tell me.”
Straightening her back and standing to her full height, the nurse’s voice took a firmer tone.
“You have no idea what your body… and your mind have been through, Livvie. As a child, you’re not able to understand how serious this all is.”
Livvie pushed herself into a sitting position, wincing from the pain.
“My daddy’s dead, my mom’s in a coma and I have no one. People who don’t even know me get to tell [image error]me what to do.” She continued before the nurse could speak. “We don’t have any more family. We only had each other. So strangers buried my daddy, and no one told me. I’m ten and a half, not stupid.”
She reached for the child, but Livvie pulled away, wincing again.
“I didn’t even get to say goodbye. My daddy’s gone… and I didn’t get to say goodbye.”
“Livvie, I’m so sorry-…”
Ignoring the pain, Livvie turned on her side with her back to the nurse and spoke in a hushed tone.
“Go away. Just go… away.” Livvie exhaled when she heard the door open, then close. The tears she had fought so hard to hold on to, now wouldn’t come at all. She wanted to scream and cry.
She wanted her daddy to run into the room and save her. Instead, she felt as if the lump in her throat would choke her. Livvie massaged her forehead slowly and closed her eyes.
“Why did you leave me, daddy? I’m so scared, daddy. I need you.”
Livvie felt her legs and back begin to throb and knew someone would come to give her medicine soon to stop the pain. The medicine would make her sleep and she wouldn’t have to talk. The thought made her smile slightly and remember another time when she couldn’t talk.
She’d had her tonsils removed two years ago, and despite being able to eat all the ice cream she wanted, she still cried because of the pain. Her daddy sat close to her on the bed and rubbed her back.
“It’s okay to cry, Livvie-Lou, everyone cries. But I’m going to need you to work towards being strong for your dad. Too much crying is not good for your throat and I know you don’t want to go back the hospital. And you know how your mom feels about hospitals.”
Livvie opened her eyes suddenly.
She had no idea how her mother felt about hospitals.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Family Matters (In the Best Interest of the Child, Book 2)
Coming August 2017
Cover Reveal June 29th!
Sign up with Reads & Reels Book Tours here
Why Realism is Essential
If your story lacks realism, readers will be disappointed.
Why? Well, good novels encourage readers to suspend their disbelief; to believe that the story is real, even though it’s obviously fiction. Without realism, readers will find it hard to think your story is, well, real.
Now, coming from a guy whose most recent story was about spaceships, you’re probably a little confused. Does the need for realism impede you from writing about anything you can’t see or experience?
The answer, of course, is no. Stories about aliens, superheros, or medieval vampires can all be 100% realistic, because realism isn’t about stories being true to our world. It’s about stories being true to themselves.
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June 19, 2017
“Hunger: A Memoir of (My) Body” by Roxane Gay
“When I was twelve years old I was raped and then I ate and ate and ate to build my body into a fortress. I was a mess and then I grew up and away from that terrible day and became a different kind of mess – a woman doing the best she can to love well and be loved well, to live well and be human and good.
I am as healed as I am ever going to be. I have accepted that I will never be the girl I could have been if, if, if. I am still haunted. I still have flashbacks that are triggered by the most unexpected things. I don’t like being touched by people with whom I do not share specific kinds of intimacy. I am suspicious of groups of men, particularly when I…
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Four Lessons I Learned From Giving My Novel Away
by J.U. Scribe
My free book promotion for Before the Legend is officially over as of this week. What was supposed to be a “Free Promo Week” turned more into a month long promo filled with free print giveaways, author interviews, guest spotlights, and of course free eBooks! It was encouraging seeing a significant jump in readers adding my books to their virtual shelves in Goodreads, to new reviews being added on Goodreads and Amazon.
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June 18, 2017
Creative Writing vs Writing as Therapy
by Sara Kopeczky
I had a rough childhood and adolescence (but hey, who hadn’t?), and often times found consolation in making up stories. I would write short, gothic stories with monsters and witches that helped me cope with my everyday issues. Later on, when I became more serious about my writing, I realized that creative writing is so different from writing to soothe your soul, because you have a responsibility towards your readers (and towards yourself) to deliver something a bit more concise than fumbling notes about how your dad doesn’t love you and all the other kids are stupid. Here are some of the main differences between creative writing and therapeutic writing:
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No More
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52-Week Writing Challenge: Week 24
Scene from an ongoing WIP and continues on from Good Morning, Mother . Quinn Landon stumbles upon a long-held secret of still more betrayal by Oscar and plans to use the information to end her husband’s endless delays to their divorce.
“If you grip that pen any tighter, it’ll break.”
Quinn looked up at her attorney, not missing the concerned look in his eyes.
“I guess I am a bit keyed up, huh?” She exhaled heavily. “This day has seemed out of my reach for far too long. You have no idea what it means to me to sign these documents.”
Morris Dabney chuckled easily. “Did you forget who you’re talking to?”
The young woman bit her lip, heat flooding her face.
“Sorry, Morris. I forgot… you’ve been through this too.”
“Been through it? My dear, four divorces make me an expert at divorce, my profession notwithstanding.”
Quinn signed her name one last time with a marked flourish.
“Done!” She slid the papers across the table. “And you’re just too easily distracted by a pretty face, Morris. You can’t marry all the pretty women.”
“Yes, they were all attractive, but they also were able to make me believe they truly cared about me… loved me.”
Quinn’s heart broke at the sadness in his eyes.
Morris smacked the conference table and grabbed the signed documents. “Fortunately for you, and all my other clients, I’m a far better litigator than I am a judge of women allegedly interested in me.”
He stood and walked to his desk, adding the documents to a file folder. “I know you’re relieved to at last sign dissolution documents for the filing, Quinn. But you know at this point, it still isn’t a done deal, right? Oscar can still contest the divorce and drag this out for some time.”
Quinn Smirked.
“He can try.”
Morris considered her remark, eyebrow raised. He retook his seat across from her.
“This is the third time we’ve been here, Quinn. The first two times, you seemed more fragile, more broken. Your emotions were all over the place.”
“The first time was so hard for me. Finding out that the man you love with all your heart and soul is cheating on you is a real confidence killer. Then to have him get on his knees and beg for forgiveness and another chance… well, it’s the stuff romance novels are full of. I believed him because I wanted to believe IN him.” She shook her head slowly. “Things were okay for a while… a short while. I began to have female problems, and it only took a visit to my doctor to find out I had a serious STD… courtesy of my husband.”
“And yet, you didn’t go through with the divorce proceedings either time, Quinn.”
Nodding her head, this time it was Quinn who stood. She walked over to the large office window overlooking the river.
“I know, I know. I was so confused. I knew I had the right to divorce Oscar. But our families, especially our parents, they just… kept at me. All their ‘marriage is for a lifetime’, ‘it’s sanctioned by God’, and my personal favorite, ‘for better or for worse’.”
“I’m sorry, Quinn. I didn’t know of your religious beliefs.”
“Religious beliefs? Please. Religion has nothing to do with it. During one of my mother’s pseudo-religious rants, I interrupted to remind her that committing adultery was breaking one of the Ten Commandments… and she called me JUDGMENTAL!”
Folding her arms across her chest, Quinn paced. “You know what the Clark/Butler family prides itself in, Morris? Longevity. And not just longevity of life… but of marriages. Do you know my mother has photos of her parents and grandparents hanging in her family room? And the common denominator is not that they’re family, it’s that the photos were taken after each couple celebrated at least fifty years of marriage.”
Morris’ eyes widened.
Quinn waved away his surprise. “Dad’s family was the same way. His grandparents were married for sixty-four years before my great-grandmother died of respiratory failure.”
“I don’t know what to say…”
“There’s nothing to say, Morris. I’m sorry I didn’t share all of this with you before. I was just too ashamed and embarrassed to admit I’d allowed myself to be bullied and too terrified to stand up for myself. I didn’t want to go against our families.”
“I’m your attorney, Quinn. I look out for your best interests.”
“Yes, you do, Morris, and I’m more grateful than you know. Not many attorneys would be bothered with a crazy lady who kept changing her mind about getting a divorce.”
“Getting a divorce is a major decision. Everyone second guesses themselves at some point. It’s normal. But tell me. You changed your mind twice, yet here we are a few months later with signed papers. Care to share?”
Quinn’s smirk returned with an eerie malevolent tinge.
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June 17, 2017
“But now… in this moment, she understood what it meant to hate someone.”
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“Free, a Novella” by Felicia Denise
#99cents #KindleUnlimited #NewRelease
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Snippet
Lennie leaned down, kissed his forehead and placed the napkin across her father’s lap. Just as she got it in place, Burt looked up at her. Lenore was gutted. More pieces of her already broken heart fell away. His ashen skin, mottling and in different shades of brown and gray unsettled her. His slack jaw and visible body tremors made Lennie shudder. His eyes were her undoing. The mischievous gleam responsible for so much laughter, which had helped to comfort, console, and encourage her… was gone.
Father and daughter were still eye-to-eye, the reality of the situation holding Lennie in place when she felt his frail hand cover hers.
“Thank… you, baby girl.”
Lennie smiled and kissed his cheek, comforted with the knowledge she made her father happy. “You’re welcome, Daddy… always.”
Before Lennie could retrieve his dinner plate, Linda Kelimore was already cutting the meat into tiny portioreadersofins with this, Lenore. Take the other plate for yourself.”
“But that’s yours, mom.”
“It will be cold before I get to it. Go on, eat. I know you’ve been on your feet since the lunch rush.”
Just like that, Lennie was twelve years old again, doing as she was told.
Picking at her food, she tried not to stare at her parents. But Lennie couldn’t help but be mesmerized. Watching as her mother fussed and cooed in loving tones at Burt to take his time and chew each tiny bite of food. Linda caressed his cheek between bites. Burt rested his hand on her knee, never taking his eyes off Linda’s face.
Feeling like an intruder on a private moment, Lennie did force herself to look away.
Anyone who knew Burt and Linda Kelimore knew they were totally devoted to each other. More than half a century had passed since the day they each ran into a mechanic’s shop in need of quick repairs. Though they were both on their way to meet other people, a thirty-minute conversation changed their plans for the evening and the rest of their lives.
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June 16, 2017
Throwback Thursday: How to Write a Novel That Will Actually Be Worthy of Publishing
Throwback Thursday is a series where we take a look back at some of AWP’s most popular posts. Enjoy!
by Michael Cristiano
So, you say you have a dream, Mr. Martin Luther King Jr. of prospective fiction (or nonfiction) writer. Well, so do I, and so do millions of others around the world. That is to write a book, but not just any damn book: a book that will be good enough to publish.
Seems like a pretty simple goal, right? In today’s day and age, there are a billion ways to see your work published: paperback, hardcover, ebook, literary magazine, traditional publishing, self-publishing, hybrid publishing, serialization, writing your novel on your arm and reciting it in the subway (okay, maybe not that one…)
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June 15, 2017
Lies Told By Small Presses
by Steven Capps
Like many of my posts, this stems from something I saw in an online writer’s group. Essentially, someone who has been traditionally published from a small press was putting down people who self-publish. Personally, I have my own problems with self-publishing that I discuss in my “Why I’ll Never Self-Publish” post, but that is besides the point. At this point, I’d like to formally begin my rant against small presses.
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