Y. Correa's Blog, page 5

Ova Veugh Does it Again! Come take a look.

Hello everyone! Ova Veugh here and welcome to the debut episode of Claret Conversations.

Usually, when you think of December, you envision cold weather. Select holidays. The savoring of good home-cooked meals. The exchange of presents. The gathering of people, singing, laughing and expressing what they are thankful for.

However, people also desire warmth.

I am excited to introduce two people who I deem Connoisseurs of Sensual Heat. One is known for his Syncopation of Ravishing Intensity. The other is well-known for her contemporary views on relationships and sexuality. Please give a warm welcome to Authors Adonis Mann and Synful Desire.


Adonis and Desire, it is fantastic to have you as my first guests on Claret Conversations. Before we talk turkey about your latest joint project, I would like to offer you a choice of wine.
Adonis: White, if you please.
Desire: White, please.


I will have a bit of hot apple cider myself. I never conduct interviews while tipsy.

Okay, now that I have handed out refreshments, let’s get the show on the road.
My first question is for Adonis.
How did you come up with your preliminary catchphrase “Syncopation of Ravishing Intensity”, and why did that same phrase fit your first short story collection?
Adonis: Well, the “Syncopation of Ravishing Intensity” catchphrase was the brainchild of Author Queen of Spades. You see, many months before the birth of S.O.R.I. I was searching for a catchphrase that would encompass my sapient style of writing as well as the flow of my prose. One day, as we had an Author Mentoring Meeting, we brainstormed several variations of a catchphrase that might serve the purpose. A few words thrown around were “Ravishing” and “Intensity” followed by someone saying “But Adonis there is a certain syncopation in your words.” At that very moment Author Queen of Spades said, “That’s it! Syncopation of Ravishing Intensity! That totally describes you, Adonis.” and there you had it.
As it pertains to “Syncopation of Ravishing Intensity”, a.k.a. S.O.R.I., which story is your favorite as it pertains to the following categories:a. Readabilityb. Charactersc. Intensityd. Resonance
Adonis: My personal favorite story in S.O.R.I. was “Tyronian Rapture”. Apart from being among the very first stories I wrote for the collection, it somehow took with it a piece of my heart. I find that it has all of the aforementioned variables; readability, characters, intensity and resonance. Although the setting is historical, the way the story is told is very relatable and captivating.
Now, Desire, a question for you.
Since you arrived on the scene, you’ve always touted that “Surrender is Liberation”. What has that meant to you? Is the meaning the same from its conception until now? As your writing evolves, have you ever felt pressured to change it?
Desire: To me, although I apply “Surrender is Liberation” to writing, it is actually a concept that is applicable to all walks of life. In order to function as a physically healthy individual, one must surrender to the process of health, to find liberation in the benefit the process provides. This can also work for the mental, emotional, and spiritual in humanity.
I do not want to digress, so I will stick to speaking about me. I was adamant that I did not want to be constrained by what others defined as my writing style.
Although I burst on the scene writing erotica, I never wanted to be known as the “standard” erotica writer or just to be an author who delved into erotica. Erotica is more than just intensity. It involves sensual intelligence, emotional architecture, anatomical symmetry, along with what to say and when to say it. I swear, to hear someone brag that “anyone can write erotica” makes my skin itch. Sure, one can string obscene words together, but that doesn’t exude erotica or sexiness. It is the other components surrounding the words.
Even though I’ve explored a myriad of genres, “Surrender is Liberation” still applies and means the same. I feel no pressure to change it because it still fits my vision of how I see myself and live my life, both as an author and as a person.
As it pertains to your flash fiction anthology “Amoresels”, which story is your favorite as it pertains to the following categories:a. Readabilityb. Charactersc. Intensityd. Resonance
Desire:a. In my opinion, readability goes to “Taste on the Move”. I won’t give much away, except food and hunger.b. For characters, it would have to be the title story “Amoresels”. The interactions between the hosts Maeve and Dawood along with their invited guests were highly entertaining.c. For intensity … this is a tough one … but I have to say “Full Circle”. Primarily because of the emotional backstory that drove the action.d. As it pertains to resonance … another difficult decision … I pick “House of Mirrors”. The way the story came together still leaves me in awe.
Now, a question for you both.

Do you take time to read each other's stories? If so, which one is your personal favorite and why?
Adonis: I absolutely do read Desire’s works. As a matter of fact, she is one of my favorite contemporary romance writers. There is a fanciful groundedness about her style that appeals to me quite a bit. All of Desire’s stories are charismatic and enthralling in their own rights no matter what she writes. I personally have a soft spot for her newer collections called Amoresels. So much so, in fact, that I wrote the Foreword for that collection of micro-shorts. There is a “fetish” for every personal preference and a savoriness for all taste buds. I highly recommend it. It’s a super fun read.
Desire: I do take time to read Adonis' stories. There is a unique melody to his story writing that soothes me. One of my personal favorites is one of his newer selections "Twin Flame Duplicity". Although it is a free offering, there is a level of intensity and intrigue which packs quite a punch.
What made you two decide to collaborate for the first Simmer book?
Adonis: It was Desire that came up with the concept of the first Simmer collaborative based on the original story called “Simmer Sweet” which was a short story she wrote that was initially being given for free to readers. One day she decided that she would make an extended edition of the story and that was when she invited me to be a part of it. I think that her reason to have me collaborate was because I did not have many publications at the time. But, in all actuality, she tells the story much better than I could ever. Thus, I will let her expand now ….
Desire: Donny, I think you actually covered it fully. Adonis was newer than I, and I believed it would give him great exposure.
Okay, back to you Adonis.
How did you segue from your original tagline to your current one? Was the transition gradual or all of a sudden?
Adonis: It was indeed gradual but had more to do with what was going on around me at the time.You see, the All Authors Authors seemed to all be growing out of their taglines, if you will. The transcendence that had become our collective storytelling styles seemed to beckon a transitioning of taglines—something that explained where we stood now in our writing careers.It took me longer than most of my brethren to make the transition as I was having difficulty finding something that truly fit.One day I decided to call a meeting. The focal point was to come up with a tagline that better suited my growth.We all went back and forth pitching various lines.Funny enough it took a collective attempt to come up with just the right string of words. Some people felt that “Whimsical” was a great fit for my style, whereas others thought that I was a “Wordsmith”. Others still believed that my writing style took you from earth to something like a Nirvana. Hence the word “Oasis” was selected. The final product was “Wordsmith of Whimsical Oases”.I find it fitting.

FIG Blog Tour Day #5

The Perfect Novel to Celebrate Native American Heritage Month! "The Curse of Dead Horse Canyon: Cheyenne Spirits"by Marcha Fox and Pete Risingsun

BLURB:
Charlie Littlewolf knows there's something suspicious about the accident that killed his best friend. Determined to solve the mystery, he must return to a way of life he's shunned for decades. Will the Cheyenne grandfather spirits respond before a black ops team kills him, too?
BOOK TRAILER:

EXERPT:
Charlie pulled the blanket closer, fingers entwined in its soft texture. June or not, nights were brisk at seven thousand feet. Its earthy scent, including a hint of lanolin, unfurled memories of three decades past, when he was living on the Diné reservation in New Mexico.His very first job.An assignment he resented.He could still see Littlebear leaning against the horse corral, arms folded across his chest."No, son," he'd said. "You have only six winters. You are too young for the javelina hunt. You must stay and help your mother and amasani."Charlie hung his head, thinking he'd sneak away somewhere for the remainder of the day."Look at me," his father commanded. When he obeyed, his intent collided with the probing eyes of a knowing parent. "When I return you will tell me what you did and they will tell me if you did it well."He pouted, looking back at the ground. Not hunting with his father was disappointing enough. That edict made it even worse. The teasing he'd suffer from his cousins and friends for doing the work of squaws would be merciless. Moccasins shuffling in the dirt, he trudged back home to find his mother. As soon as he stepped inside their hogan she took one look at his sour face and shooed him away.Outside again, he stifled a smile, vindicated to pursue his original plan. Then he remembered. His work was subject to review. His grandmother, one of the tribe's weavers, was his other option. He'd watched her work a few times, but progress was slow and tedious—far too boring to hold his interest for any length of time. With luck, she wouldn't be busy and would tell him one of her wonderful stories. He especially liked those about mischievous coyote.But when he got to her little house, she wasn't there.It sounded like a big commotion over by the training corral. Sheep bleating along with people talking and a variety of other unfamiliar sounds. Curiosity tickled, he headed that way.The characteristic smell of sheep was strong with so many confined to a small area. That, along with all the dust, evoked a giant sneeze. He wiped his nose on his sleeve, then climbed up on the fence to watch the antics of one of the lambs. That held his attention until he spotted his grandmother a short distance away.What was she doing, poking around what looked like dozens of flat, dead sheep?Then it a registered: Shearing time. He watched one of the men use clippers to peel away a year's worth of wool from one of the ewes. It came off in what looked like a solid piece. His grandmother spotted him and waved him over.Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all."I'm supposed to help you today, amasani," he said.Her weathered face, round like the moon and likewise bearing the grooves and craters of life, broke into a broad smile. "I'm so glad, grandson. What think you of all this wool?""I think it smells funny.""I like it," she replied. "Sheep are almost as important now as buffalo were long ago. They give us meat and they give us wool. This is one of my favorite days, when I pick the fleeces I want before the rest go to market.""Aren't they all the same?""No. Each is very different. Certain parts are better than others, too." She took his little hand and led him over to those she'd set aside. "Let me show you."She pointed out the different parts of the animal from which the fleece was removed. Some areas were much cleaner and the fiber longer."I have a very special project I must do. I need you to separate the shoulder section from the ones I've chosen. Do you know why?"He looked closer. "Because it is cleaner?""Yes. It is also the longest, which makes it easier to spin."That task finished, he thought he was done. Little did he realize his work had only begun. The raw wool needed to be prepared for spinning. She showed him how to tease each lock by pulling it apart.His reverie paused as he rubbed his thumb and forefinger together, remembering how they squeaked when coated with lanolin. To his surprise back then, it also softened the callouses he'd earned practicing with his bow. Next came combing the teased wool with a pair of carders that looked like giant-sized dog brushes. The resulting bats went into a reed basket, miniature clouds of fluff awaiting his grandmother's skilled hand.As the day wore on, his arms ached and he couldn't card quickly enough to keep up with her spinning. She prodded him to work faster, her hand moving the spindle relentlessly as she twisted the prepared fiber into yarn.As it turned out, the project lasted into summer. By then he earned her name for him, Naalnish. Once enough yarn was spun, the fun began. Now he could do some exploring while he gathered the dye materials needed to produce a variety of warm colors. Best of all, the collection process for some required a knife or ax, a worthy task for a young brave.Cottonwood leaves, yarrow, and oak bark were some of the things she requested. Among the most challenging were cochineal beetles which, when dried and ground into powder, yielded shades of red. It took an entire day or more to collect enough from their cactus homes for a single batch. To both him and his amasani, however, it was time well-spent.When she was ready to start the dyeing process, he hauled water from either the iron-rich spring north of their village for reds, or the alum-rich one to the east for yellows. The resident minerals affected the final hue and were necessary for the fiber to retain its color—the '"why" of which planted the seed for his interest in chemistry.When she had sufficient dyed yarn, he helped warp the loom constructed from tree trunks, tie the warp rods that helped create the pattern, then wind the different colors on smooth sticks that served as shuttles.Then, at last, weaving began.He marveled day by day as she lifted the warp rods and alternated shuttles, colorful geometric patterns emerging with each row, until their collective labors produced a finished blanket that was not only functional, but a work of art.His heart swelled as he remembered the day it came off the loom. She folded it carefully, hugged it a moment, then handed it to him with a sparkle in her eyes."Where should I put it for you, amasani?""In your hogan, Naalnish. By where you sleep." "Why?""Because it is yours."Only now, as a grown man, did he appreciate the love and wisdom of that experience. Especially when he discovered that most blankets, at least those offered for sale by members of the tribe, were not made the old way, but with commercial dye and machine-spun yarn.This was one like none other, made expressly for him with his amasani's love and his reluctant assistance.It was far more than the work itself. It was what it taught him. Not only about the old ways, but of cycles. Of going full circle from the vegetation the sheep ate to grow wool to dyeing the yarn with some of those same plants. The process was tedious and long, yet the result was priceless.From that first bat of carded wool to its liberation from the loom, it instructed him in the ways of life. It taught him patience, perseverance, and appreciation—for hard work and simple things.The Diné believed part of their soul went into such creations and always hid a loop somewhere in the tight weave for their soul to escape. So far, it was so cleverly hidden he'd never found it. His fingers caressed the soft fiber, wondering if he ever would. It felt softer each year, improving with use, unlike so many things that didn't last. Analogous to the earth itself and his connection to it.All thanks to the wisdom of an old woman, who at the time was not much older than he was now. Whose kind heart would forever live in a cherished wrap that kept him warm for what would soon be thirty haigos, including many spent in the frigid Colorado Rockies.How many white men had such a treasured possession?




MEET THE AUTHORS:
Marcha Fox

Marcha Fox earned a bachelor's degree in physics from Utah State University in 1987, which facilitated a 20+ year career at NASA’s Johnson Space Center in Houston, Texas. Her interests expand far beyond the world of aerospace and hard science, however. The esoteric realm of metaphysics and all things weird and wonderful hold her interest as well.  When her attempt to debunk astrology backfired, she pursued knowledge in that field as well. She graduated from the International Academy of Astrology's professional development program in 2012 and is the sole proprietor of ValkyrieAstrology.com. Much of the popular website's content can be found in "Whobeda's Guide to Basic Astrology." Her previous fiction work includes her epic Star Trails Tetralogy series, which has been highly acclaimed for its family-oriented plot as well as its palatable and STEM-friendly science content described in detail on www.StarTrailsSaga.com.Born in Peekskill, New York, she has lived in California, Utah, and Texas in the course of raising her family of six children, now grown. Besides writing, she pampers her two cats, maintains an active astrology practice of international clients, and tries to keep up with her home, yard, friends, and family.
Social Media Contact Links
Email: marcha@kallioperisingpress.comAuthor Facebook:  https://www.facebook.com/marchafoxauthorTwitter:  https://twitter.com/marchafox Instagram: @startrailssagaBlog Page: http://marcha2014.wordpress.com/ Series Website:  https://www.Dead-Horse-Canyon.com
Pete Risingsun



Pete Risingsun is an enrolled member of the Northern Cheyenne Tribe who has served as a spirit helper to medicine men in ceremonial sweat lodges. He's a proud fifth generation descendant of Chief Iron Shirt, who was a lodge keeper and powerful medicine man. Born in 1950, he was raised on a small ranch east of Busby, Montana. He attended Montana State University, then worked for Exxon in Billings, Montana for a year before returning home to the reservation as adult education director for the Northern Cheyenne tribe where he also raised black angus cattle and bred championship Quarter horses. He has served as a Tribal Council member and was the first Northern Cheyenne elected to serve as a Rosebud County Commissioner.He's the proud father of one daughter and grandfather to two. Pete is currently retired, but in addition to co-writing The Curse of Dead Horse Canyon: Cheyenne Spirits" he makes and sells sweet grass braids, a sacred plant used in various ceremonies.
Social Media Contact Links
Email: prisingsun2@icloud.comFacebook: https://www.facebook.com/pete.risingsun Series Website: https://www.Dead-Horse-Canyon.com




BUY LINKS:
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08DM9PFW5/Barnes and Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-curse-of-dead-horse-canyon-marcha-fox/1137410925Google Play: https://play.google.com/store/books/details?id=0fzyDwAAQBAJApple iBooks: https://books.apple.com/us/book/the-curse-of-dead-horse-canyon-cheyenne-spirits/id1525388731Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/the-curse-of-dead-horse-canyon-cheyenne-spiritsSmashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1034906Universal Buy Link: https://www.books2read.com/deadhorsecanyonGoodreads https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/54747387-the-curse-of-dead-horse-canyon

The Fate's Endeavor Experience Book 3; Newly Released

It’s been a long time in the waiting … almost a decade.

The question is, was it worth the wait?

Some say yes.

We’ll let you be the judge.

For the first time ever, C. Desert Rose, in conjunction with All Authors Publishing House is proud to present you with the third book in the now dubbed Fate’s Endeavor Experience, “If Death Should Find Me”.

To run or not, to live or die …? Destiny is a bitch and here is why ….

 Azriel has always been an enigma amongst the Hierarchy of Angels. He was born a duality; human and not. Azirel, for centuries, has been appraised harshly by mankind. Nevertheless, death is of the natural order. All things that live must at some point, die. Azriel is the usher into transcendence.
Such was his purpose and the Higher Sources saw this to be good … yet, things change.
So begins the measure of Travis’ enterprise into the hands of fate. Due to the magnitude of his venture, Travis finds himself caught between life and death. Angels and demons surround him, attempting to influence the paradigm of his fate. The only question in Travis’ mind is, what would happen If Death Should Find Me?
The Fate's Endeavor Series, surpassing the emotional fabric of angels and demons and delving into the delicate threads which infuse Fate's tapestry.




Months Later
Rural Location, Earth
~ Travis ~

Who knows how much time had elapsed. Days, weeks, months, whatever …? I didn't know. Didn’t much care, either. But honestly, it felt like I'd been running forever.
Shortly after leaving my home, while on the road at some crazed point, I sawed off my cast. I couldn’t deal with the damn thing any longer. And, although the memory is a bit foggy, I can somewhat recall that it was in a grimy motel room in the middle of nowhere. My tool of choice was a rusty old hunting knife that had been sitting in my car for ages.
But that day, in that moment I thought to myself, If I am really a fucking angel, then I can probably fix my own damn leg and rib. Right? Right.
I took a deep breath—instantly my rib hurt. Regardless of that, I focused all of my energy onto healing my leg and rib. I put one hand on my broken leg, the other one on my chest.
I closed my eyes, kept breathing deep.
Suddenly, a strange warmth started exuding from my hands. It seeped into the areas I was trying to heal kind of like they were absorbing the energy or something. Out of nowhere, the rush of heat covered me entirely. I could feel it pulsating like a strobe light. Within seconds, I didn’t feel any more pain. It was all gone.
Opening my eyes, I immediately knew that I was better. I moved my leg. It didn’t hurt. I tapped my rib, that was fine too.
Well fuck, look at that—I guess I am an angel, I thought.







But wait, that’s not all!



For your reading pleasure, C. Desert Rose and All Authors Publishing House are also proud to share with you the newly improved “If Death Should Love Me”.












Azriel is appraised harshly by mankind. Humans do not like to face death, therefore, they conjecture it is an ugly and terrible thing. Death is of the natural order. All things that live, must at some point, die. Azriel is the usher into transcendence.
Such is his purpose and the Higher Sources saw this to be good … yet, things change.
A dull roar, that's all I could hear. Souls, that's all I could see... So many people. Some good, some bad. Some breathing, some barely breathing. All souls. It was funny what you could see when you stood in the middle of the Emergency Room. Who survived, who didn’t. All of them, every one, a soul. A soul for the taking.
So begins your introduction to the floating, clustered world of souls that will have such influence on Sophia, the young Puerto Rican-American girl who has just lost her closest ally, her grandmother, "Abuela". It is just after the funeral, at the cemetery, where Sophia meets the tall, almost angelic man who will play the most unexpected role in her life.
A love story. A fantasy. An adventure. If Death Should Love Me tells a tale of “fate” far beyond the normal meaning of that little four-letter word. How else would you explain why Sophia wonders what would happen If Death Should Love Me?


Bed two. The doctor, the running, the yelling. The focus on bringing her back, futile. It was incredibly sad to say that she was just a child. A baby. Five years of age. Why did “fate” find it necessary to take her? She had yet to even commence to live. It was not my choice. I merely followed orders.
Her soul was lovely, just like a little girl's should be. A soft pink. Like a princess, I mused. Beautiful.
"Come child." I extended my hand so that she would take it.
"Where am I going?" She asked. The innocence in her voice was heartbreaking. Or would be, if I had a heart.
"I'm taking you to a safe place. Somewhere where you will never feel pain again. You will be happy there, sweet child."
"Cindy," she said. "My name is Cindy."
"A beautiful name for a beautiful girl," Her smile seemed as though it could quite literally light up the room. "Well Cindy, do you see that very pretty light just there?" I pointed.
"Yes." She responded with bright eyes.
"Walk into it. Go on, child … Pretty Cindy."
"But why? Where's mommy and daddy? Why do I have to go?" There they were. The questions that always followed once I had collected them.
"Do not worry Cindy, your grandmother is there waiting for you. I promise," I assured her with a soft grip of the hand, then continued, "before you know it, mommy and daddy will be there also." What more could I say to such a young and delicate creature?
"Okay." She replied, not at all convinced that what I was telling her was the truth. She obeyed nonetheless. When she entered she realized that my words were true and secure.
"Nana!" She called with a magnitude of happiness, then ran into her grandmother's arms. I turned.
The mother, yelling. The father, failing at his attempt to be strong. The doctor, saddened. The confusion. The horrified faces. All of it, all too familiar, all too real.
Time for my next assignment.

Stay tuned for the upcoming link to "If Death Should Love Me"

Journal Entry: 10/1/020

I guess I just need to get some things off of my chest although they may not make any sense to anyone but me.

Honestly, maybe I just need to expel the negative energy trapped in my chest.

So I make no apologies for anything that might seem nonsensical. With that said, I'll dive right in.

So far, this year, I've been doing all I can to keep my head above water emotionally speaking.

It's been a chore just keeping up with my constantly downtrodden emotions and the hamster-wheel of ruminations.

I am perpetually exhausted due to a few things, but among them, is the madness of thoughts that I can't stop. In the midst of it all, I may have 1, even 2, good days but for the most part I am just depressed all the fucking time.I know people keep saying that due to the pandemic everyone is going through some level of depression and hardship. And this is exactly why I don't even talk about it. What good is it to speak on something when you're just being drowned out by the voices of millions? Little do people know that I have been dealing with this for years on end—this year in particular being extra hard. And in my personal case it has little to nothing to do with the pandemic.I am trying sooooo hard to stay upbeat, to "not let it get to me" but that's easier said than done. I am further bothered by people who in their attempt to help have nothing more to say than, "You can do it, you are strong." Or worse yet, "Be strong."It's like, "Bitch, you have NO IDEA HOW STRONG I am being right now! " I want so much to just scream those words in people's face. It isn't easy to get up and keep moving every single day when you have no purpose or desire to do so. You couldn't even begin to understand the strength that it takes. Just "going" takes a strength beyond measure, and the best you can come up with is "be strong"? FUCK YOU!
I feel beat down and like I am never going to get past it. All I want to do is ...





But I can't. This is made worse by the fact that the world makes me feel like I don't have the permission or the right to feel down or blue. I get to feeling like I need to constantly put on a happy face and act like everything is A-Okay when inside I feel like I am falling apart.
It's funny because, she hasn't said it and I know she doesn't even think that way, because she always wants me to tell her how I am ... but sometimes I even get to feeling like my only confidant is tired of hearing me complain. Not that I do it very often when it comes to my depression. I am always moaning about my physical pain, though. But it isn't until after I do that I think to myself, "I need to shut up already about this shit. She's probably tired of hearing me bitch."
This of course, doesn't even count the daily struggles just to survive each day. No one knows what it's like to be struggling to make ends meet every fucking day like someone who is going through it. Day in and day out you have to undress Paul to dress Peter, and rob from Mary to pay Joseph. It's just fucked up . Soooo fucked up, it hurts .
The truth is, if you do the math this is what you'll get ...
I FEEL BROKEN AND UNFIXABLE+I HATE THIS WORLD

Shadow Work Sunday: Entry 4

Hi again!It's that time again.Here to talk about the next question on the Shadow Works initiative. Today's question really made me think. I had to dig deep to come up with something because, in all truth, the grudge that I've been holding on to is something that I always tuck into a box in my brain and don't usually think about. At least, until I think about it .But before I dive in, let's look at the question and at the Unleashed One's reply.



Do you hold grudges against others that could possibly be let go? What is your motive for holding on to them?

The Unleashed One

If I were asked this question many years ago, the answer would be yes, and my motive would be in order to justify actions to get back at the person for what was done to me.

For example, back in the seventh grade, someone who was supposed to be my best friend was telling other people stuff I said in confidence. It wasn't derogatory statements about other people but events that were going on in my personal life. Things that were causing me pain. When I confronted her about it, she not only did not apologize for doing it, she called me the "n" word.

Now, I'm not one who usually fights. I felt myself get angry, and when I am, it's best for me to walk away. But then, she got bold enough to put her hands on me, and then, all bets were off.

I felt no apology for what I did to her. I didn't even feel bad for her having to transfer to another school after everything happened. I mean, you don't betray someone's trust and insult their ethnicity and let that ride. It just wasn't in me to do so.

Going back even further was an incident I had in the sixth grade with one of my cousins. It felt as if she and I were in competition with each other, even though I had no interest in the things she wanted to compete about. What occurred in the sixth grade was the culmination of the toxic interactions we'd had with each other, dating back to the third grade.

In the third grade, there was this guy who liked me, and we had a relationship. She wanted to be in a relationship too but decided it had to be with the guy I was with. I found out about it and broke up with him. Once he tried to remain with her, she dumped him. So, she was doing that just to get at me.

In the sixth grade, there was this guy who became friends with me. Usually, I'd be that person sitting by myself on the bus. I'd gotten used to that since back in those times, I was rather awkward looking and got picked on a lot. This guy was one of the few people who didn't see the extra weight, the ugly eyeglasses, and the braces. He treated me like a person, and we even had some things in common.

We were just friends, but my cousin started rumors that this guy and I were a couple. What bothered me was that it wasn't true, not because I was black and he was white. Despite the other kids staring, the guy didn't stop sitting with me on the bus. He didn't stop calling me or interacting with me, even when others (kids and adults) starting giving him a hard time.

I hoped that if she and I talked, then the rumors would stop since she had started them in the first place. Instead, she resorted to doing the same antics the bullies did. Her last act was knocking my eyeglasses off of my face, which stirred up my fury. We fought soon after.

Although she apologized, I didn't accept her apology. I held on to the hurt and anger throughout the remainder of my school years, and it wasn't until well into adulthood that I was open to interacting with her again.

But, like I said, that was back then.

Now, I realize that holding grudges does not really serve a benefit. It's a waste of energy that could be transformed into something positive.

Yes, one can use the failures, betrayals, and disappointments to teach one what not to do and what to look for, but when the lessons turn into fuel for vengeance (which is what a grudge is), then it becomes unhealthy on a spiritual, mental, emotional, and physical scale. Holding a grudge gives another person power over one's actions, and when I came to realize that, I made moves differently.

Any grudge I had against anybody I released when I received that breakthrough. However, that doesn't mean that I shouldn't tailor my interactions accordingly. I don't view a clean slate as the wiping away of egregious actions but the opportunity to establish something new. That something new doesn't always translate into a person still having a role in my life or that person holding the same place as he or she did before. Whether that individual feels a certain way about that I cannot control. I can only control my emotions and actions.

That's all I have. Now I hand the floor over to Mini Truth.

Mini Truth

Before writing my thoughts, the first thing that occurred to me was that the grudge I'd been holding on to the longest, I'd recently let go in a very spirit-filled moment of spiritual reconstruction and growth.

It was the grudge I held against my ex-husband and all the things therein. I won't get into the meat of that, as that, in some terms, is old news. Most of the people that know something about my story, know about that part of my testimony.

What a lot of people don't know is the pain and trauma I recently endured at the hands of abusive employers.

Honestly, the fact that employers could also be abusive was something that never really occurred to me throughout my life. Therefore, looking at employment as one would a personal relationship was that last thing I thought of.

Now, in retrospect, I see that they go hand-in-hand. Unfortunately, at this time I was ignorant to these details. I paid the price severely—in the form of deep-seated trauma.

It all started about five years ago.

Having recently moved to New Jersey to live with my sister and her husband, and having freshly weathered some truly trying circumstances with my sister, in the attempts to rebuild the fabric of our family unit I needed to find a job. Stat.

I won't go into those details either. I'll just stay with the pertinent facts.

So, I started job seeking; went through a few different interviews. Finally, I came across an organization in the Special Needs field that was looking for an Administrator. The Special Needs field is something that is near and dear to my heart so I went for it.

In to time at all, I'd scored the job. I was more excited than I could say. Not only would I be able to do my job financially within my family unit, but I'd also be working in a field that meant the world to me. It seemed like a win-win. I had struck gold.

Or so I thought.

Long story short, this place put me through hell thrice-over, and back. When I say that I went through sooooo much shit at this place, I really mean that. No exaggerations whatsoever. I damn near gave everything I had (and then some) for this job, but they continuously treated me like a dried up, nasty shit stain on marble floors. I even endured seeing my own son and other special needs kids get abused at the hands of some of the employees in this place. Something I reported and stressed to the higher-ups repeatedly. Nothing was done.

Finally, after going through the worst of the worst, I was let go under the pretense that the company was going under. Only to later find out that they had started some sort of rumor and sandal about me and accused me of doing things I had never done. Never, not once. 

That broke me to damn near the point of oblivion. Had it not been for the support of my sister, I think I would have ended up in a mental institution. And I don't say that lightly. Only she can attest to how much this marred me. I mean, it was bad.

The end of that employment position paved the way to three more employers that were no better. This too is no exaggeration. You can't make this shit up. My sister, who was there the whole time, can testify to the entire story.

FOUR VERY abusive employers. It changed me entirely as it pertained to getting a job and the understanding I had of it. Like, in an abject and extreme way.

Suffice it to say, I hold a grudge. A really, really big one.

This same grudge is made worse by the fact that I also have PTSD; something I got year ago due to the other abuses I'd faced in life.

Nowadays, I find myself at the most random of times having nightmares about this place. In the nightmares I relive the torture but always retaliate with immense hate. I find myself attacking my attackers, doing them massive damage. Then I wake up startled, flummoxed and agitated.

I also, at the most inopportune moments, find myself reliving the things I went through here and at the other three locations. My mind will wander and I am suddenly distressingly disturbed. I can be driving, the car is silent, the roads are open and lovely ... then unexpectedly, I am back there. At those places, with those people, going through it all over again.

It's a horrific way to live.

Here is the problem ... I don't know how to let it go. I have no clue what I can do or how I can get past this chronic anger.

I am open to suggestions.

Well children, that's all I have for you today. Be sure to drop some suggestions or comments down below if you so desire.See you next week for the 5th entry!

#WomenInSciFi Featuring The Host, Y. Correa

 

Featuring
Who is Y. Correa?

Y. Correa is a literary seductress, luring one in with her talent of Romancing the Words, keeping one hypnotized with dynamic characters, and stimulating one with engaging narrative voices, strong plots, and epic conflicts. Her writes are as complex and as distinct as her person; a delightful combination of eclectic and antiquated.

Therefore, the mere mention of fitting into one set genre is laughable. The multi-genre decadence is where she showcases her magnificence.

Y. Correa is also the creator and founder of All Authors Publishing House and all of its subsidiaries, as well as the now popular Facebook Group, "Talk Books To Me" a place where all authors from all walks of life can come to promote their works.

Y. Correa’s works include:

Solo Works

Historical Fiction “MarcoAntonio & Amaryllis”Sci-Fi Mashup “The Earth 8-8-2 Saga" currently a 3 book collection, with an anticipated 7 books by the end of the seriesParanormal Romantic Drama "Lilith's Dominion"Short Story Anthology coined after her catchphrase, "Dimensions of Literary Seduction"Novelette "Peter Blade" a dark psychological drama

Anthology Participation

"Concordant Vibrancy: Unity""Holiday Keepsakes""Crackles of the Heart: Divergent Ink Book 1""Concordant Vibrancy: Vitality""Concordant Vibrancy: Lustrate""Pleasure Prints: Divergent Ink Book 2""Concordant Vibrancy: Inferno"

Upcoming Works Include

"Reversal" coming January 2021"The Legacy of MarcoAntonio and Amaryllis" Date of release is yet to be determined"Genesis Ellipse ..." Date of release is yet to be determined

Apart from being a prolific Mulit-Genre author, Ms. Y. Correa is also the Founder and President of All Authors Publishing House. She considers herself an avid reader, a dedicated mother, a great friend, a committed family member, a great cook and complicated in an uncomplicated sort of way.
What are her Science Fiction Contributions?Y. Correa is a fecund writer with several Science Fiction works in her arsenal. However, her love for the Earth 8-8-2 Saga stands above all. Therefore, today we will share the complexities of that saga with you.To learn more about the Earth 8-8-2 Saga, visit its Website . You can also learn more about Y. Correa's other works by visiting her Website .

Earth 8-8-2: The Genesis Project, Blurb:

Could Science Serve as Salvation?
One-fourth Human.One-fourth God.One-fourth Superhuman.One-fourth Vampire.
For Dr. Scott, the combined strengths of each life form represent the answer to the onslaught of malice and tyranny plaguing his Earth. When his creation—Genesis—begins developing, the lines between scientist and father become blurred. Soon the time approaches where Genesis is expected to fulfill her purpose. Does she go along willingly, or will her rapid evolution obliterate everyone’s best laid plans?
Earth 8-8-2: Genesis' Rebellion, Blurb:What happens when Science’s Instrument of Salvation blazes her own path?
In the second installment of the Earth 8-8-2 saga, Genesis is heartbroken, disillusioned, but most of all … angry: angry that she has no say-so in the narrative of her own purpose. In the absence of choice, the only response that makes sense is rebellion.As Genesis elicits the intensity of her powers, General Townsen must act quickly to develop a counterbalance to this previous experiment gone askew. Will the General’s army rise effectively against this unlikely nemesis, or will all see the literal overtures of what occurs when powers that be attempt to regulate true evolution?
Earth 8-8-2: Armageddon's Rise, Blurb:In the midst of Genesis' emotional Armageddon comes an Armageddon ... of a different kind.
From the residual carnage arises Experiment-8-8-2.1, Project Armageddon. He desperately seeks the answers to his own existence. Upon searching, Armageddon is confronted by the blinding fury of Genesis, which serves as an unwelcome hindrance until the timely interjection of Dr. Anicom Zenit.When Experiment-8-8-2.1's origins and purpose is divulged, will Armageddon continue to rise? Or will the exquisite apex of scientific rebellion known as Genesis remain a formidable deterrent of progress?
Connect with Y. Correa:FacebookTwitterFresh Ink Group

#WomenInSciFi Featuring Harmony Kent

 

Featuring Who is Harmony Kent?

Indie Author Harmony Kent is an award winning multi-genre author. Her publications include: 

The Battle for Brisingamen (Fantasy Fiction) AIA approvedThe Glade (Mystery/Thriller) AIA Approved/BRAG Medallion Honouree/New Apple Literary Awards Official Selection Honours 2015Polish Your Prose: Essential Editing Tips for Authors (Writing/Editing) New Apple Literary Awards Top Medallist Honours 2015Finding Katie (Women’s Fiction)Slices of Soul (Contemporary Poetry)Interludes (Erotic Short Stories)Moments (Short Stories and Poetry)Jewel in the Mud (Zen Musings)Backstage (Erotic Romance)FALLOUT (Post-Apocalyptic Dystopia)

As well as being an avid reader and writer, Harmony also offers reviews and supports her fellow indie authors, Harmony works hard to promote and protect high standards within the indie publishing arena.  She is always on the look out for talent and excellence, and will freely promote any authors or books who she feels have these attributes. 

Well, that’s the official biography … Harmony also has violent tendencies and forced me to add a not quite so official version …

Harmony Kent is famous for her laughter, and has made quite the name for herself … she’s also, um, a writer … and fairly well known for that too. She lives in rural Cornwall with her ever-present sense of humour, adorable husband, and quirky neighbours.

What is her Science Fiction Contribution?
Blurb:

WHEN EVERYTHING FALLS APART, WHAT CAN YOU DO?

The year is 3040.
The location is Exxon 1, part of a six-planet system in settled space.Determined to avoid the mistakes of old Earth, the surviving humans avoided democracy and opted, instead, for a non-elective totalitarian system.The new way worked well, until now.A crazy, despotic president releases a nano-virus on the population.No one was ready for the fallout. It came anyway.In this post-apocalyptic world, can you stay safe?
Praise for FALLOUT:'If you like dark, dangerous, and a little bit demented, this is the novel for you.' ... Staci Troilo'Fallout by Harmony Kent is a dark, gritty, twisted apocalyptic story guaranteed to keep you on the edge of your seat.'... Mae ClairConnect with Harmony Kent:TwitterBlogWebsite

Shadow Work Sunday: Entry 3

 

Guess what day it issss?Yep, it's that time again. Although this week my post is a bit later than usual. Instead of Sunday, it's going live on a Monday. That was my fault. I've been mad busy lately.
This week's Shadow Work Assignment is the following:

Here is today's question:

In what ways are you inauthentic? Why?Tacking this first, as per usual ... 

The Unleashed One

When I first saw this question as part of the shadow work, it did take me aback. I try to the best of my ability to be as authentic as possible. However, I also have to accept that part of inauthenticity can show up in behaviors based in trauma or experiences, so from that angle, I do have to admit areas where I’ve fallen short and work on ways to address them.

I am inauthentic when it comes to expressing when I am feeling unwell.

Since I suffer from several chronic ailments I find myself often saying the generic response "I am okay" when asked "How are you doing?", or even the more direct question, "How are you feeling?" I have already told myself that other people have it worse than me, which may be true. Yet, I have, with that response, devalued my own pain and the impact my chronic illnesses have in my daily operations.

One example of this occurred earlier today. I was hyper-focused on my workload. Although precautions have been taken to make my workplace safer, some of us still have to work from home because the occupancy of the building would be too high if all of us were allowed. I am one of the people still working from home.

While doing my tasks I began experiencing symptoms related to my levels dropping (blurriness, occasional transposing of numbers, and feeling incredibly cold). I waited until I got a moment to check my numbers. As I suspected, they were under 70. However, instead of interrupting my friend, who was also working from home, that I needed something to bring my numbers up, I said nothing and still tried to behave as if all was okay. That behavior benefits me none, and I realize this. But it's the programming.

"Others have it worse."

"No one cares that much."

"You can't expect someone to pause to help you out."

"Get yourself together."

It's a vicious cycle, especially when you are known as …

The dependable oneThe reliable oneThe problem solverThe listenerThe healerThe breadwinner The strong one

The characteristics often seen as positive are the same ones that freeze my vocal cords when I am in predicaments when I feel or exude the opposite of any of the aforementioned.

I am inauthentic sometimes with my utilization of the word "yes".
Did I confuse a few of you there?


Growing up, there were certain situations where although I wanted to say "no", cultural and/or family teachings ("bullied" would be too strong of a word) "strongly suggested" that you say "yes".
The way I was brought up, someone cooking for you was an expression of love, care, and hospitality.
If a guest showed up at your house, you were supposed to have a complimentary beverage for him during his visit. If he planned to stay during the time you were to have lunch or dinner, you'd offer to fix him something as well. If you were only planning on having a snack, then you would offer him a snack.
It was unacceptable to have a guest (whether expected or unexpected) visit your house and not have any nourishment to offer him. He took the time to visit, and that has value. The offering of something from the home is expressing a token of appreciation for the visit.



It was also unacceptable if someone had cooked for you, to nibble at or state that you "don't eat said food". Even if it's for a valid reason, it is considered an insult to the host. 
Because I was brought up in this way, it's like autopilot for me to say "yes" when someone insists that you have a dish. It was easier when I was younger, although even back then, my palate was particular.
As I got older, my eating habits have changed. With that transition, many dishes I've indulged in previously I either no longer eat or are too salty, sweet, etc. For the foods I still eat, I often modify to be less sweet, less caloric, more anabolic, etc.
Whenever I visit my hometown, it is a challenge. Many of my family members still eat the way I used to from the past. They haven't fully realized that in addition to making exercise a regular part of my life, the foods I eat, along with the quantities of the food, have changed as well.
However, because I don't want there to be hard feelings over the refusal of food, I either (a) just take it "to go"(b) only eat a small portion of it, or if someone is making a comment equal to "is that all you're going to eat", then I do (c) eat the majority of the dish, making modifications to not eat as much for the remainder of the day, or incorporate more exercise.
Going forward, if I am going to visit someone who will want to cook for me, it is a better idea to express the changes in my eating habits ahead of time. If these modifications bother the person, then I will just tell the person not to cook for me at all. I can't allow the art of being polite and not wanting to ruffle feathers to cause me to potentially backslide on the progress I'm making with my health.



Another part of this involves social situations, particularly very large gatherings. Large gatherings make me uncomfortable. I tend to get overstimulated which can bring forth anxiety. Although educating myself with coping mechanisms has helped greatly, it's better for me to be more preventative by not putting myself in the situation in the first place.
If it's something related to my job that's mandatory, that can't be avoided. However, if it isn't work-related, it's better for me to say "no" than to say "yes" and feel high levels of angst leading up to the actual event. 
Initially, I believed it was my introverted nature that was the main drive of not wanting to be around people. In reality, it's more than likely the empath. Over the years, I've become able to be around a small group, provided that the energy from those people is positive and welcoming. Especially if that small group of people does something I do as well or share an interest in an activity I want to learn more about.
There could be more but these are the top two that stick out. Perhaps as they arise, I will journal on them privately or do a follow-up to this post. Now, I give the floor to Mini Truth.



Mini Truth
So at first I really thought that this question didn’t pertain to me. I even said so to the Unleashed One when we were discussing it prior to writing our post.
Then, upon closer consideration, I realized that it does to some degree.
I am inauthentic when it comes to expressing my true emotions and pains with other people. And, with close inspection, I realized that the reason why I refrain from doing so is because of trauma. It was ingrained in me, deeply, that my feelings didn’t mean diddly-squat to anyone. I don’t think that I have a whole lot to say here, but I will try my best to be clear.
At a young age, through my mom’s actions, I was taught that pain is a competition. Someone always hurts more than you. Usually, she was that someone.
If I hurt about something, she hurt more. If I felt some kind of way about something, she did so more. And so it went until one day, I just shut up. I felt defeated. I remember that being at a very young age. I may have been 7ish when I learned that I should just stop talking about what hurt me because it was useless.
This same methodology even translated into the proverbial “tattle tailing” that kids do on their siblings and classmates. If I complained about my brother and how he abused me, I was told that I was a cry baby and that I just needed to suck it up and shut up. Literally, those words. If I came home and complained about the bullies that hurt me, I was called a “pussy” and that I needed to learn how to defend myself. “Fight!” I was told. Eventually, I started doing just that. With the bullies as well as with my brother.
This was the beginning of a roller coaster ride of perpetually devaluing my pain and imposing hers upon me.
I know now that she probably didn’t know any better back then. And since then, she has tried very hard to make amends. But the scars are still very raw.
Later on in life, I married a very bad man. He was a terrible, lowly person that continuously berated me. And whenever I complained … about anything … I was made to pay the price in some sort of abuse or another, whether that was verbal, mental or physical. 
Now, 14 years hence since the big breakup, I still find myself in that cycle of self-talk that says, “No one gives a shit anyway.” That is further complicated by the profound disdain I have for the term, “You’ll be okay, just be strong” or any other variation of the same.
The only person I trust enough to tell anything regarding my emotions and/or ailments is the one doing this entry with me. And whenever I do that I feel a great sense of guilt. Like I am burdening her unnecessarily.
It is even hard for me to confide in doctors because so many of them, that I have seen, have minimized my pain. They’ve made me feel like I am insane or something. So it feels like I am facing the same thing I went through in my earlier years all over again, except this time by a supposed professional.
Nowadays, I find myself being incredibly inauthentic when people ask me how I am doing or how I’m feeling. My usual reply is, “I’m fine.”
Or if I do slip up and say a little bit of how I am feeling it would sound something like, “I am not completely up to snuff today, but I’ll survive. I always survive. I’m strong.” It’s almost like I am saying it because it’ll save them the hassle of having to say it.
When you add to that the thought that always occurs, “They are probably having a worse time than you” I then find myself in a perpetual loop of downplaying my own emotions just to give merit to theirs.
Now, it’s happened so much in my life that I’ve gotten to the point of indifference of how others (outside of my circle) feel. I couldn’t care less. It’s almost like my mind goes to, “If they don’t give a shit about my pain, why should I care about theirs?” It’s a dark place to be, for sure.



Thanks for reading another installment of Shadow Work Sunday.
Later, Gators.

#WomenInSciFi Featuring Cloud S. Riser

 

Featuring

Who is Cloud S. Riser?

Cloud S. Riser is a Minnesota native. She has lived in Minnesota her whole life. She will probably remain there for her whole life too. The mother of The Squid, Skyscraper, and two cats, her life is definitely never dull. An adventure she braves with her husband. In order to stay sane, she creates massive amounts of fiction which she has decided to share with the rest of the world for the simple reason of: she is a storyteller. Her books include ...
The Achlivan Cycle: Displaced (book 1)Invited (book 2)Sheltered (book 3) Battlefield Series: Battlefield (book 1)Control (book 2)Decay (book 3)Pledge (book 4) The Tracings Series: Jack and Hyde (book 1)Kayle and Claire (book 2)Ace (short, included in the "Hidden Worlds" anthology) Tales from Point Epoch: Under the Marble Frosted Surface The Keepers Trilogy: The Dark HourThe Other SideThe Last Lock The Musings: The Divinity of AnilaWhat are her Science Fiction Contributions?

Cloud S. Riser is a prolific Science Fiction authors with multiple works to share. To find out more about the books presented above, please visit her " My Books " page via her Website .
Connect with Cloud S. Riser:FacebookInstagramBlog

#WomenInSciFi Featuring Bonnie Milani

 

Featuring [image error]
Who is Bonnie Milani?
After completing her MA in Journalism at Stanford, Bonnie worked as a freelance feature writer before going on to teach writing at Learning Tree University. Her science fiction works have won multiple awards, including the Evvy Gold award and Readers Favorite.

NOVELS & NOVELLAS Home WorldLiquid GambitCherry PickersThe Sissy & The PirateMonkey's LuckA Piece of Paradise (coming early 2021) SHORT STORIES The Good Old DaysWebs of SisyphusHot Day on TitanA Beginner's Guide to UnDeath (coming soon)What is her Sci-Fi Contribution?

Though Bonnie has written several Science Fiction stories, today we will share "Home World".

[image error] Blurb:

On a shattered Waikiki two princes risk humanity's future for Keiko Yakamoto's love. Who will she choose - or kill?Centuries of ruinous war have left Earth little more than a dusty tourist world within the star-flung Commonwealth she founded. Now, amid the ruins of a post-apocalyptic Hawaii, Jezekiah Van Buren has found a way to restore Earth - Home World to the other worlds of the Commonwealth - to her lost glory.The most ingenious prince even the genetically-enhanced, Great Family Van Buren has ever produced, Jezekiah has achieved the impossible: a treaty with the human polymorphs called Lupans, that will convert these ancient enemies to Earth's most powerful allies. The treaty will not only make Earth rich again, but it will enable Jezekiah to escape the Ring that marks him as Earth's next ruler. Then he'll be free: free to create his own future, and free to marry Keiko Yakamoto, the warrior-trained woman he loves.Assuming he can convince his xenophobic sister to accept the Lupan's alpha warlord in marriage before the assassin she's put on his tail succeeds in killing him.Assuming he can thwart another deadly uprising by the interstellar criminal organization called Ho Tong. And before his ruling relatives on competing worlds manage to execute him for treason.Jezekiah manages to stay one step ahead of his foes, until his Lupan warlord-partner reaches Earth. And these two most powerful men suddenly find themselves in love with the same woman. A woman who just may be the most deadly assassin of them all.

Connect with Bonnie:FacebookAmazonWebsite