Lavinia Thompson's Blog: Seeking reviewers! , page 23

Poem~ Stardust

I haven't written a poem for a while, but got inspired tonight Enjoy!

Stardust

You are

more than anyone knows;

a dreamer, achiever, reaching

for the very stars from which

we are made.

You are stardust.

Silvery dust falling

from indigo skies;

symphonies echoing from afar

If ever your dreams

shatter completely,

if ever the moon

is nowhere in sight

remember:

We are all exploding stars

in skies of different shades.

Watercolours brushed across hearts

sometimes as dark as ebony

sometimes as blue-green as an ocean.

Stardust

falls… 

until you can run a finger

over the layer upon glass.

The reflection is a glimmering

glance of who you are.

You are so beautiful… 

Stars

of a different sky.

But the sky is always the same

no matter the season.

Your body is made of atoms.

Atoms come from stars. 

We are all stardust.

These are our skies.

This is our galaxy

through which to reach

as far as we want to dream.

 

Spellbound: To be released in PRINT this week!

I received a package from Amazon in the mail this morning that I had been eagerly awaiting for about a week.

The bright orange flames on the Spellbound by Fire caught my breath instantly. Finally I was holding in my hands a physical copy of a book I had worked years to perfect and bring to life. It's only a proof copy but it's the first hard copy of Spellbound to see the light of day. Tonight I sit working on the sequel, Spellbound by the Sword, with the proof copy sitting beside me as a reminder of what I have been through to be writing the series and finally presenting it to an audience.

My fiancé and mother have both been laughing at me all evening as I wander the house, hugging the book, caressing the cover. As revolutionary as eBook publishing is, there is still something magical about holding a physical copy of your own book in hand.

Back in May, I made a goal. I set out on a self-publishing journey that has seen its twists and winds, its ups and downs. Self-publishing She Wasn't Allowed to Giggle was an experimental learning experience, though it did much better than I thought it would in terms of reaching my intended audience and helping people, accomplishing what it was published for.

At the beginning of November, I decided to continue that journey by withdrawing Spellbound by Fire from the publisher and self-publish it; a decision I don't for any moment regret. I glance down at my book beside me with a sense of pride. After losing it in a house fire and then rewriting it, after rejections and turmoil with publishers, Spellbound by Fire was released December 2 as an eBook and I am now thrilled to announce that it will be available in print this week through Amazon!

The self-publishing journey has been an exciting one. As 2012 draws near, new goals are being set. It is time to reset my focus on my journalism career. I set it aside to publish my poetry book and Spellbound. I have a few journalism job leads. We'll see what happens there. In the meantime, I will continue on with my books. Next up: The sequel, Spellbound by the Sword. From writing to editing, cover art, production and marketing and selling, I can't wait to do this all again!

My take on Pat Hickey's column

The world seems a bit more cold-hearted today.

Yesterday, Montreal Gazette sports columnist Pat Hickey published a column that quickly stirred controversy. He called former sex abuse victim and NHL star Theo Fleury an "enabler" and a "hypocrite" for not stepping forward sooner about suffering sexual abuse at the hands of minor league hockey coach Graham James.

Full column can be found at: http://www.montrealgazette.com/news/Fleury+hypocritical+Hickey+says/5848382/story.html#Comments

First off, Hickey doesn't have his facts straight. Fleury was NOT a co-owner of the Hitmen, he was one of 18 investors, which means he didn't work alongside James. And even so, James had a tight control on Fleury for many years. He told Fleury that he would never get anywhere in the NHL without his coach. After being told that so many times, one starts to believe it. Learn the psychology of a victim before you ever DARE to judge. Secondly you NEVER call a victim a hypocrite or an enabler. Every victim is different about when they come out and talk about it. If you have never been through such horrific abuse you have no idea how hard it is to come out and talk about it. To compare Sheldon Kennedy and Fleury is irrelevant as they are two different people who dealt with and reacted to the abuse in ways only they knew how. To blame ANY victim is a heartless act.

Pat Hickey's column is the kind of cruel and arrogant thing that leaves me angrily speechless. Fleury is calling for Hickey to be fired, which I personally think would be appropriate. What gets me though is that columns and articles have to get through the newspaper's editor before it ever gets published. Not only does the column look like wasn't edited with the misspelled words and improper grammar, but what does its message say about the Montreal Gazette as an entire paper? Editorials like such are supposed to represent the opinion of the newspaper. You don't represent yourself when you write for a newspaper.

Shame on Hickey for writing about a topic he knows nothing about and for doing the one thing you NEVER do- blame a sexual abuse victim for what happened to them. And shame on him for being heartless and arrogant towards a group that is already bound by a silence imposed on them by their abuser. It is people like Hickey who keep victims in silence. The old-fashioned and outdated view on sexual abuse has to go. Victims need to be recognized as they are and no longer treated like garbage in the justice system. They must be listened to and compassionately guided through their stages of healing, not degraded and ridiculed like Hickey. Why not call out Graham James for destroying so many innocent lives?

Hickey doesn't understand what victims really go through, that's why. And anyone who doesn't get it needs a cold and harsh reality check.

 

 

National Domestic Violence Week Book GIVEAWAY

Brief update! I'm doing a FREE eBook Giveaway event on Facebook for National Domestic Violence Week! "She Wasn't Allowed to Giggle is FREE to download until Dec. 13 at: http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/92467. It has already been downloaded more than 30 times and readers are giving it excellent remarks. One reader on Twitter told me: "I loved She Wasn't Allowed to Giggle. It really hit home with me!" after telling me she had grown up in a violent home.

I am also inviting other writers to join me! If I get more writers to join the giveaway, I'll extend it to the end of the month. Tessa Blue Jones has already donated her book to the cause, her short story eBook called "Soldiers and Dandelions." I read it myself- it's a rather touching and very spiritual story about a woman coming to terms with the violence she endured at her father's hands as a kid. It is available on Smashwords and free to download: http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/58778

The Giveaway can be found on Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/events/258709397515508/. Spread the word and help raise awareness! Invite your friends to join and download the books. Also, if any other writers want to join and donate their book to the giveaway for a week or two, let me know! And thanks to everyone already participating by donating their eBooks and/or downloading the books!

An Excerpt: Edge of Glory

Just a little something  I've been working on. This is the beginning development of a future novel.

Edge of Glory

She had been wandering the lonely streets for too long, past night clubs flashing neon lights and the pink rays that stretched from windows in tall buildings. Dance music blasted, bass shaking the walls and everyone within them.

There was a certain glory to people that hung around this side of town; girls in skimpy skirts and leather, guys in their leather jackets, pretty cars and some roaring around on Harley Davidson's. Society's outcasts slouched against old brick walls covered in graffiti from local troublemakers that routinely shot up the area. The broken windows in abandoned buildings told the stories.

Lucki used to tear up those streets; her six string on her back and nowhere else to go but find another bar or street corner to play on. Busking had been her way of life for years; always searching for the next edge of glory, believing with all her restless vagabond heart that one song would get her somewhere one day.

She wandered past the club, blending in with the rest of the drunk and rowdy crowd; jeans ripped at her knees and leather jacket jingling with chains. Under the leather was her old black t-shirt with a motorcycle and silver cursive writing: Edge of Glory. Her curly black hair fell past her shoulders, shaking as she walked along and adjusting her guitar on her shoulder. She was a rebel among college kids who only acted like rule-breakers.

No one would recognize her from that scene. She had wandered so far from her old stomping grounds that everything had changed by the time she found her way back to those streets. She stood on the corner in the October cold where her life, her music journey had begun. Behind her was Glitz, the club where college crazies and partiers crammed into every weekend. Down the block from her was another club installed into an old dirty building, where the smell of marijuana drifted out into the street. Across the street was the old jazz lounge. She knew that about four or five blocks away, Game On, the sports bar with a music lounge in the back garage for open jams, would have been hopping with a hockey game on. All walks of life inhabited downtown on Saturday nights.

Lucki smiled a little, that autumn wind chilling her to the bone but she barely felt the cold. Hanging on to her guitar, she turned around and wandered past Glitz, slipping by the drunken freaks filing out the doors and into cabs. Lucki shook her head with a small laugh to herself.

Of all the places she had been to in her time away, Lucki knew there wasn't a place quite like this. The underground music scene was enviable to other places in the country. She knew a few bands and solo artists who made it to the big time after years of hitting up the open jams and playing what shows they could; just a fellow starving artist trying to get by on a dream and some coins in their worn out pockets.

She ventured further into downtown, where a few prostitutes walked the dark streets and a few groups of men hung around outside the closed stores and shops. Lucki minded her own business as she walked, knowing just where she wanted to go as the rain began to sprinkle down on her face. Those dark eyes were intent on the bar ahead of her. It was where her journey and started and somehow where it always ended up again.

Slowing down as she approached the doors, a wide smile came across her face, her adventurous eyes lighting up. She loved this place.

The TVs inside flickered with action from that night's hockey games. Lucki took little notice in who was playing. Rather, she had her eyes set on the door in the back behind the end of the bar. She let out a small breath when she got to the door. The first step into the hidden garage was like taking another step home. To her right was the bar, and to her left were all the tables where people sat watching whichever artist happened to be on stage.

And she recognized the musician on stage right away, at the same moment his eyes looked up to catch sight of her. His hair was still long the way she remembered it; dirty blond and longer than hers. His hazel eyes glanced at her and he almost stopped in the middle of his song, but held his composure. A few people looked up and saw Lucki, though she tried to be inconspicuous. But there was no being discreet in that town.

"Lucki! Oh my  gosh!! When did you get back into town?" she heard another girl squeal. Before Lucki could set her guitar down, a pair of arms were thrown around her joyfully.

"Damn, Maggie, I missed you too," Lucki laughed as the brunette girl hugged her.

"Did you just get back here tonight?"  Maggie asked excitedly.

"Just pulled into town about a half hour ago," Lucki replied, setting her guitar case down and leaning against the bar. Looking around, she spotted a few other local musicians she knew, all awaiting their turn to go on stage.

"Are you going to go up and jam?" Maggie asked. The man on stage was strumming through a slow ballad, which caught Lucki's attention and she didn't hear Maggie's question. Maggie caught on to what Lucki was looking at.

"Johnny just got back to town about a month ago," she told Lucki.

"Ah, I was wondering…" Lucki replied as he finished his song. Quickly she took her eyes off him.

"Lucki, Lucki! Girl, where have you been?" someone else called out. Lucki turned around to find a few guys from her regular crowd approaching her.

"Hey boys, long time no see," she said happily, watching out of the corner of her eye as Johnny left the stage and vanished somewhere into the crowd.

"We're just going out for a smoke, you coming?" one of the guys asked.

"Let me go put my guitar down and sign up to play, I'll meet you guys out there," Lucki replied. She carried her guitar in its case over near the stage, where she set it down with the others awaiting their moment to shine before the small crowd in the bar.

"Lucki," she heard a familiar, deep voice behind her. She would have known it anywhere.

"Johnny," she said as she turned around to face those gentle hazel eyes.

"When did you get back into town?" he asked, leaning against the wall beside her. His muscular chest was obvious under his tight black t-shirt. He wore a black leather jacket and black jeans.

"Just tonight," Lucki replied, trying to avoid being distracted by him.

"It's great to see you. You look good. Let me buy you a drink," he said.

"Sure, man. I'm just going to put my guitar down," Lucki told him with a small shrug. She could feel his intense eyes on her back as she took her guitar over to the area by the stage where musicians assembled their instruments. She saw a few familiar faces in the crowd and waved to those who greeted her as she went back to where Johnny was standing at the bar.

"So where the hell have you been, Lucki?" he asked after ordering drinks.

"Everywhere," Lucki said as he handed her a glass of rum and Pepsi.

"Figures. You never stick around this town long," Johnny remarked. Lucki grinned.

"The world is a big place, Johnny. Many people are born and they die in this town, and have lived here for that entire dash in between. There's more out there," she replied.

"But you always end up back here," Johnny pointed out. Lucki shrugged.

"Something about this place…home town, you know?" she said, feeling content in the familiar scene that she had always rocked as her own. There was something about her home town that had always drawn her back again, something about the late night jams and the strange little city with its quirky pulse that always kept her going back again.  She didn't know what drew her back there from every escapade she took out into the big old world and all its changes, but she knew that at the end of every journey and with every step towards the edge of glory, something in that road always led her home again.

Copyright 2011 Lavinia Thompson

Red on a rose: END domestic violence!

Like red on a rose, domestic violence bleeds through the cracks in our society more than ever these days.

I discovered the YWCA's Rose Campaign in my first year at college. I covered a speech given by one of the YWCA ladies at the university. I still support it today, much like I do for the entire cause of violence against women. Being a survivor, I feel it is my calling. But it shouldn't be limited to just victims and survivors to speak out against the violence. It should be everyone.

There are many stories like mine; too many. The significance and message of this day, the 22nd anniversary of the École Polytechnique shooting that killed 14 innocent female students, is one that should resonate every single day: Violence against women must stop. It is senseless. It is destructive to more than just her. It destroys the lives of her children, her family, and every one involved.

A 2009 report outlines some disturbing numbers when it comes to domestic violence in Canada, for both men and women.

-        "Close to 7 in 10 of respondents who reported being a victim of spousal violence said that they had also experienced emotional and/or financial abuse."

-        14 per cent of males and 20 per cent of females reported experience spousal violence in a previous relationship.

-        The majority of abuse instances go unreported to police or other formal services.

-        "In 2009, police reported almost 55,000 children and youth victims (0 to 17 years) of a physical assault or sexual offence (Table 2.1). Of these, about 3 in 10, or close to 15,000 children and youth, were victimized by a member of their own family."

-       "Of the 15,000 child and youth victims of family-related violence in 2009, about two-thirds (67%) were physically assaulted."

-        "The other one-third (33%) of children and youth victims of family violence suffered sexual offences."

-        "Parents were responsible for more than half (59%) of all family-related sexual offences and physical assaults against children and youth victims in 2009."

And it goes on throughout the 53-page report, posted on the YWCA website: http://ywcacanada.ca/data/research_docs/00000182.pdf.

Those are the numbers, the reality of what happens behind closed doors in our country.

Tonight, I'll be attending a vigil at the local YWCA for the 14 École Polytechnique victims. We all must adhere to our calling, whatever it may be. This is mine. Will you make it yours?

End domestic violence. As the theme of my Spellbound series goes: Never again.

For more on the Rose Campaign, visit: http://rosecampaign.ca/

Some thoughts: "this one's for you and me…"

The past few days have been very exciting.

With the release of Spellbound by Fire has come the light of a dream, one that has seen darkness and destruction and has persevered into what it is today: a published, completed Spellbound with the sequel in the works.

Spellbound will never have to be a best seller for me to consider it a success. I celebrated hard core when it sold its first copy just today. It will always be a success to me because of what I had to go through to write it. Once upon a time, I wrote it in my basement bedroom with my music as loud as it would go just to escape the fighting and violence upstairs, the sounds of my family enduring another long night with a drunken monster. In 2004, the abuse ended, but not without losing everything after Mom's ex burned the house down. In the house fire, I lost the original draft of Spellbound that I had started.

To say I was devastated would be an understatement. I stopped writing after that. I had been told for years by Mom's ex that writing was a pointless dream, that I'd never get anywhere with it. Harsh words for a little girl with so many dreams, most of which were destroyed with the simple action of throwing a gasoline-filled beer bottle through a basement window and sitting back to watch the destruction. I started writing again after about six months after almost losing my mind and sinking into a suicidal state, proving that writing was (and remains) more than a hobby – it's a lifeline.

Even after I was writing again, I had people telling me I'd never get anywhere, that I "should go into nursing, that's where the money is." I know I'm not the only writer to be told something like that, to be degraded and have the one thing you love most minimized to dust. However, I always said that I wanted to publish Spellbound because I wanted to put everything he did out into the world and to have people read about what he did and slap him in the face without even realizing it. For everyone who buys and reads either She Wasn't Allowed to Giggle or Spellbound, that's exactly what happens. I'm proud of it.

To all those whoever said it wouldn't get me anywhere- sure, it hasn't made me rich. I'm not worried about money; that's not what writing is for me. The majority of the She Wasn't Allowed to Giggle copies that have gone out have been free, either to reviewers or organizations that assist victims and survivors of domestic violence. The Girls Educational and Mentoring (GEMS) Organization is featuring the poetry book in their poetry and prose group. Writing to me is a voice. Whether that makes me money or not, is not the point. Simply completing Spellbound and having it out there is empowering for me. Because I survived something that not many do, a darkness that not everyone is lucky enough to crawl out of alive. Every day, battered women are murdered by abusive spouses and parents. Put into perspective, I'm lucky to have survived long enough to write and publish Spellbound.

And even for those who say that self-publishing is the "easy way out" and have the attitude of superiority because they're traditionally published- By NO means did I take an easy way out. If I took that route, I wouldn't be writing this blog post today. Spellbound never would have seen its release day.

Finally, to those fellow writers who get discouraged by people who minimize your passion- don't listen to anyone else except for those who are brave and loving enough to support you. It's a crazy dream that takes you for a crazy ride but it is totally worth it even if you never become wealthy or a best seller. Be satisfied that you do what you love. I clean houses by day and write by night. But I wouldn't have it any other way.

"You and I know what it's like

To be kicked down, forced to fight

But tonight we're alright

So hold up your lights, let them shine

Cause this one's for you and me

Living out our dreams

We're all right where we should be

With my arms open wide

I opened my eyes

And now all I wanna see

Is a sky full of lighters." ~ Lighters

Spellbound RELEASE announcement!

I am happy to announce that FINALLY Spellbound by Fire has been released!!! It is in eBook format for now and I am working on getting print copies done. It is available on Smashwords: http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/...

I'd like to thank everyone for their support. Family and friends, online and elsewhere, for the help, love and support. It means the world! Enjoy Spellbound! I'm going to get back to the sequel!

Spellbound released TOMORROW!

With "Spellbound by Fire" at the formatter until tomorrow, I find myself sitting here on my bed in nostalgia and excitement asking myself "What do I do now?"

"Spellbound by Fire" is to be released tomorrow. Earlier tonight, I watched Lady Gaga's new video "Marry the Night," a 13-minute music video that is somewhat autobiographical and depicts struggle and hardship while trying to find success. Two quotes stood out from that video.

"I'm going to be a star. You know why? Because I have nothing left to lose."

"You can say I lost everything. But I still had my bedazzler."

It made me think back on what brought "Spellbound by Fire" to the stage it's at tonight. I started writing it in Grade 6 with no real direction to it. Back then, when domestic violence ruled my life, writing was my escape. When the house was ruled by a monster my only voice was my stories. Then, in 2004, the dream seemed to be destroyed when Mom's ex burned the house down. I stopped writing for a while. It was the hardest year of my life. Yet looking back now, it becomes a story of perseverance and chasing your dreams much like a gypsy chases the wind and the horizon. Somehow, you just get to where you're going and you some day find what you're looking for.

Completed stories and books are to writers what that bedazzler was to Lady Gaga: a symbol of the creativity that runs in the blood of an artist, a physical memorabilia that serves as a reminder of where we came from and how far we have come. "Spellbound by Fire" is my bedazzler, my perseverance story. And tomorrow it finally gets to see the light of day. It makes me believe that things will only get better from here.

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Some thoughts: The cliché rules of love

People keep talking like he's no good for me. They try applying these rules to my life, telling me how I should live as if they know my life, what I've been through and what I want.

I have to wonder how people expect these cliché rules to apply to every life, as if everyone has one-size-fits-all dreams in their deepest of hearts. Between what people tell me and what tradition tries to entrench, I swear I would be single and miserable for the rest of my life if society had their way.

Today I was told I should plan out my life and "make some goals" for my life before settling down and getting married. They're forgetting that I did my two years in college for journalism just to try relentlessly for the following year or so after that to try and get a job in my field only to discover that there are few if any jobs in journalism. Even at small town newspapers, I get told I don't have enough experience. But I'll never get experience if no one will hire me. I have applied for jobs from Nova Scotia to Vancouver. So when the opportunity arose for me to snatch my dream job in my home town even that slipped away from me. It's a frustrating rut I have found myself in that is beyond my control. No one can say I haven't tried. But they sure imply it.

So I tried to live by the rule of "sort out your career before settling down." I refuse to go back to post-secondary school because it'll be more time and money I waste. Instead, I did focus on the dream I want- to be a full-time writer. It is a career goal I have set. People just don't take it seriously. I am lucky that he at least understands my dreams. As another creative mind, he knows the feeling. He has been working on his musical aspirations for years. He watched me crash and burn when the reality hit that my journalism career wasn`t going to work out. He still stands beside me no matter how frustrated or depressed it makes me.

Others say I'm "rushing in." But what happened to "when you know, you just know"? The problem with the cliché rules of love is that they all contradict each other. The people who recite these rules weren't there for that first kiss at the Greyhound bus depot. They didn't see the intensity in his eyes when we first caught sight of each other or the relief of finally being in each other's arms. I knew by just that look that we'd rewrite the book.

They weren't there the night I discovered his deepest secret. I could have gotten out of his car and walked away right then but I sat and listened as he talked and cried. Everyone makes mistakes. No one is perfect. Other cliché rules that most people seem to forget.

They weren't there the day my mother had a stroke and I got angry at the things leading up to it. He held me and still somehow made me smile again. They weren't there when the reality of her health condition hit me and I had an emotional breakdown. He held me and wouldn't let me go until I couldn't cry anymore. They weren't there for every time he wrote me each of the nine songs he did for me.

So they can tell me all the rules they want. At the end of every day, it's not those rules that matter. Love isn't about settling down, getting married, babies and bills and change. It's about having someone who is crazy enough to go on every strange and epic adventure you go on, someone who will be there for you as often as you are there for them. Love is about getting back what you give and continuing to give as much as you want to receive in return. I wouldn't have my life without him. The rules of love? There are no rules except for the ones you make between each other. Those are the ones you live by, not the ones society throws in your face and stuffs down your throat. They are your own rules.