Showing posts with label interracial relationships. Show all posts
Showing posts with label interracial relationships. Show all posts

Wednesday, July 19, 2017

The Power of Invocation - Clair's Burden

“Goddess.” Colan breathed. “I asked her before what she was.  I left out the one she is.”

Clair felt a rush of wind at the spoken words. Her eyes opened as she sat straight up.  Her husband Sergei stirred near her.  She absently rubbed his shoulder and back.  She looked down and his ice blue eyes were glazed over.  Then they were stark and with her.

"Did you expect that to happen?" He asked Clair in a sleep hazed voice.

Clair shook her head. "No these two are progressing much faster than anyone anticipated." She admitted as she settled back in next to her husband snuggling into him.

They kept odd hours due to the planes they could travel.  They slept when they could and worked when they could.  Luckily they both had careers that let them set their own schedules. After the Virgin Launch project Sergei left corporate life and went into teaching.  His patent would take care of them as long as money was a valued resource. She didn't play as much anymore because the power in the music was hard to control. She still struggled in controlling the effects. She had known the price she would pay would be high.  She just had no idea how much would be taken from her as she tried to become what she needed to be. Or how much would be given, she thought as she pressed a closed mouth kiss to her husband's collarbone.

So much had changed since that day that Max had come to see them for the first time. Clair pursed her lips thinking about him.  Had she known then what she knew now. She pushed the thought aside.  If she thought about the rascal too hard Sergei would get into a fighting mood again.  She was still not sure if they could trust Dalen anymore than they could trust Max.  The redhead had an odd way about him. But she was worried about what she saw could befall her first couple.  If he was willing to babysit she was not going to argue. They might need some extra muscle after everything hit the fan. Which she had guessed would be happening very soon.

"When?" Sergei asked in a distracted fashion as he pulled Clair closer to him.

"Soon like in a day or so." Clair responded evenly.

"Can she handle it?' He stressed the last.

She thought about it.  He wasn't talking about the mess they were in because of Colan. He was talking about the invocation Colan was about to unwittingly commit. It was an odd thing invocation. If one person declared someone a goddess it didn't do much beyond a blip of power.  However the power of individuals has never been equal. Colan was not a normal man.  He made movies.  So while an invocation from a single man would not stir much, the invocation of a man that influenced so many manifest itself in power fitting the scope of influence. His vision influenced millions of people.  He will soon unwittingly send Fiona into a magical wellspring.

Clair traced all the major events in Fiona's life.  Her first experience with her latent abilities.  Her father's death. Meeting Cody. She also saw the scars from her first loves before Colan.  The ones that had hurt her. She watched what she did with her power.  Fiona was damaged, but ultimately kind even when it wasn't deserved. She was her first choice for a reason.  Max's opinion of her be damned. They did have a difficult road. That she did admit to.  But having faith meant having faith.  If she was going to do this right, faith was going to have to bear the heavy load, especially in these early days.

She shivered in her husband's arms.  He tightened them and kissed her lightly on the forehead. He could feel what she was thinking about.  The echos of the horrors to come. The weight of her deal with The Council  to save some.

"We'll get through love." He whispered. "You're going to make it right I know it."

* * *

Find Clair and Sergei's story in So a Psychic and a Rocket Scientist Walk into a Bar.



Then continue the tale with Fiona and Colan in Shuttered Vision.




Sunday, July 9, 2017

What they don't get - From Shuttered Vision Now Available

“You don’t get it. Other populations know white people better than white people know themselves,” she said in a candid hushed way.

His eyes snapped to hers. He was oddly still as she continued. He couldn’t help but catch the humoring pitying head shake from Cody as she continued.

“See America isn’t built where you have to figure out how to constantly avoid people of color, or LGBTQs, atheists, Muslims. Name a none Christian religion or sect, or even women. Your spaces are already set up that way. Just the hint of having to tolerate or stomach another sends average over 30 white folks into a tizzy,” she threw out casually.

She then pinned him with the intensity of her eyes as she finished. “However, every corner and facet of staying alive and living as free as I can manage has literally depended on how well I can navigate straight white Christian male spaces. Looking like this.” She loosely gestured to herself.

Colan stared at her. In that moment, he couldn’t really imagine anything or anyone to be more beautiful. She rendered him speechless. He didn’t know how to relate that. The gumption of the woman was stunning in a number of ways. She stood in his house serving him his booze and then shot out her truth regardless of the consequences.

“You are exhausting,” he finally admitted.

“So, I’ve been told,” she countered. “What I just said is long speak for no rest for the weary. I don’t get to turn it off or tank it down. Look where I’m standing.”

He did just as she asked. He could find no reason whatsoever as to why she shouldn’t exist or be in his house. However, he was honest enough to admit that there were a ton of people who could and would actually think it was valid that she not only shouldn’t be there but that she literally shouldn’t exist. It sickened him. Mostly because he had gotten to be the age that he was and it had never crossed his mind. He had done what was easy. He had rendered himself blind just like the masses of ‘polite’ white folks that pretended not to see color. The thought was actually the most offensive thing when you really thought about it.

“I see you, Fiona,” he said in a low measured tone. “I see you,” he repeated forcefully.

Stunned Fiona just stared at him as she felt her heart expand and her eyes tear. She didn’t know why that sentence was so impactful. Right now, it was almost enough to drop her into a puddle on the floor. She could see it in his eyes. They were a clear grass green. They met hers without flinching and without shame. No true judgement, not looking down on her, not pitying her. He just looked at her as another human being with thoughts dreams goals and more than all of that with inherent value. Cody clinked his martini glass to hers. That finally broke the spell.

“As usual these are delish, love,” he said sweetly which gave away how he felt about what happened.

She looked over at her best friend. He countered with an even sweeter smile. She returned it and he leaned over to kiss her cheek.

Colan turned and grabbed the popcorn. He went to sit gesturing for the two of them to come over. “This is a new one opening in a month and a half starring Dwayne Johnson,” he tempted.

Fiona lit up. “The Rock? Hell yeah.”

Colan smiled. “I did expect the Texas girl to know him as a wrestler,” he said densely.

“I’ve been to shows where he was the main event,” Fiona confirmed.

Cody was staring at the heavens. “Dear God are you also a wrestling fan?” he asked in an exasperated fashion.

Fiona clucked. “Cody is originally from Michigan, he doesn’t get it.”

Colan smirked, “I did think it was just state policy in Texas.” He watched Fiona with barely banked appreciation and asked. “So, you have no problem watching one of his films?”

Fiona plopped next to him in one of the leather recliners with Cody hot on her heels. Cody looked at her in an expectant fashion. She squinted at the challenge in his eyes.
Non-plussed she responded like she often did when they talked about the man known as Dwayne ‘The Rock’ Johnson. “I’d watch that man make toast,” she said with relish.

Cody smiled and whispered, “The balls on my girl,” then gingerly sipped his martini.

Pick up a copy of Shuttered Vision:



Saturday, July 1, 2017

New Paranormal Romance Release Shuttered Vision

I started Shuttered Vision about 8 years ago. Then it was intended to be a love lost letter to a man I knew I'd never have or ever be with.  When I started it I outlined the pervasive issues that were the problem of us ever ending in mutual bliss with each other. Those issues in my eyes were race, class and media bias. I've been a dark girl in white spaces for most of my adult life.  My assumption was that for the man to end up being a man that could overlook or readjust to these differences, love was not going to be enough. What this book started was a journey for me that I didn't realize I needed until of course it landed me right here.

8 years ago I was an administrative assistant for a college in Baltimore. I was pursuing my undergrad in video game design and planning to create a game engine to beat all game engines.  My plans changed mostly because I so needed to answer the question posed to myself due to falling for a man that would never be able to see value in me due to my race, my poor upbringing and the avid brainwashing media intentionally and unintentionally sustains with pervasive anti-blackness. That observation by the way is not up for challenge.  I will allow no one to disavow my lived experiences.

During this investigation of the whys of American racial discourse I learned from those around me. Social Sciences professors teaching History, Political Science, Sociology, Women's Studies and Teacher Education.  What I ended up building was a need to confont the problem on the ground floor. I started to research game based learning and ended up pursuing a Masters by 2011. This halted my writing until roughly around last year.  As my life started to change again I went back to what had sustained me the first time my life fell apart. Writing.


After 8 years and more experiences Shuttered Vision morphed.  It became too important to waste on a man who willfully choose to disavow me as a potentially worthy partner. I learned that it really is his loss.  I also learned that there are some people you reach back for and some you don't.  Something I constantly ignored in previous years for that hero narrative I wanted my life to reflect. I saw an opportunity in this book to truly be as authentic as I can imagine and to add a narrative to the growing ones being built by female authors of color.  Romance as a genre has not always embraced nuance, however this is changing.  I would like to add to that change.

Shuttered Vision then became a love letter to me and to all women who had to get passed that moment of feeling not good enough for reasons that are so beyond your own control.  Its a love letter to those in the trenches, bound in the struggle.  Its a love letter to those who have lost not just love, but freedom and their lives to narratives that refuse to allow basic humanity.

The message is keep creating, keep building, never surrender and be at all times your authentic self.  Because that is what actually defines humanity.

Fiona and Colan have born the weight of realization and discovery for me. They have given me so much of myself back that I adore them. I hope you come to love Fiona and Colan as I do.

Always w/love,

Sue

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Friday, May 12, 2017

How Colan Got Here from Shuttered Vision Coming June 2017

Colan had been no different. For most of his 36 years of life, films had sustained and carried him. He would never forget his first drive thru experience. His mother and father had taken them to see something he thought he really wanted to see until he turned around to look at another screen in the tri screen theatre. There he watched, without sound, Legend. Shortly thereafter his father had left and he fell completely into the world of moving pictures as his mother had to leave him to fend for himself as she had to work more. So he watched movies, every kind he could watch.

He had been raised in a back-water Oklahoma town called Chandler right outside of Oklahoma City. When he had become high school age he had talked his mother into letting him go to the best high school in the state located in Norman Oklahoma near Oklahoma State University. There he had started the process to get into the University of California Berkeley. From there he had gone to Tisch School of the Arts at New York University with a 4.0.

Colan had graduated full of zest, zeal and an appropriate amount of artistic angst. He had hit the independent film scene on fire. His first three movies had been shot down instantly. The people he pitched to insisted that Americans didn’t want to think. They wanted blood guts and senseless violence. He had been unconvinced. The public took what they could get. He was going to make films again.

All of his professors had seen the idealist in him and knew what that meant. One by one over the years they had warned him away from Hollywood. Make films overseas first, he had been advised. No no no, he had been a patriot. He had only wanted to give his creations to American audiences first. With the choices being Disney and Hollywood, he had chosen the later.

So, there he had gone. Hollywood was everything he thought it would be and a slew of other things he hadn’t expected. He had expected to be disgusted. To be insulted as the art he loved was being canonized and mass produced without thought or originality. What he hadn’t expected was to be lured in by the potential of ultimate power. To be held enrapt by the bright lights the lifestyle, the parties, the drugs, the sex. Some of those women he had met along the way had been willing to do anything. Anything at all for a shot. The realization of all that has been lost happens much later.

Ironically, the most seductive lure of it had been the competition. Being better, doing better hopefully in a way that shows everyone how bad someone else is at this job. Colan had started as a rigging grip. After 5 years of wheeling and dealing, flaunting his degree, his good looks, and southern charm, Colan Abrams from bumfuck Oklahoma and a broken home was the most sought after movie producer in Hollywood. He had gotten to be an assistant of a producer within a year and half of being in the company. Produced his first film within the next six months as the man he was working for cracked under the pressure. Pressure, Colan had eagerly and liberally applied. That year he had turned a summer blockbuster that would’ve fallen on its ass with the previous producer into a multi-million dollar worldwide hit.

The rules are simple for success in Hollywood. Money is the name of the game and the only resume item that’s respected. Rule one summer, it was luck. Rule two summers, the kid might have what it takes. Three summers followed by a killer Halloween and an amazing Christmas showing. Baby the kid’s a star.

Colan was a country boy at the core of his being. He hadn’t been used to women that looked like Hollywood wanna be starlets did.  He had never even let himself imagine men willing to prostitute like Hollywood wanna be leading men did. Like any naïve young man, he had lost his way. He had been exposed to it during school. Needless to say, it wasn’t the same.

In the past the purity of the art of crafting film had kept him focused and removed from much of the party life. Soon he learned that he wasn’t really making films anymore.  He was in the business of making money. With the purity of the art gone, all that was left was this sickening people pulsing floor show. When the lifestyle had started not to be enough he had become a little worried. When the drugs had started to not be enough, his worry escalated. When the sex became practically another form of currency he had started having full blown panic attacks.


Two years ago, Colan Abrams, multi-billion-dollar movie producer, film company executive, and all around Hollywood behind the scenes badass, suffered a nervous breakdown. His perception of the world had never been the same since.

Coming June 2017

Tuesday, May 9, 2017

Understanding Fiona from Shuttered Vision Coming June 2017

Fiona Canters grew up differently than the rest of the free world within the United States of America. When 5-year-old Fiona first told her mother about one of her extraordinary dreams her mother had smiled pleased. She asked her daughter to tell her what they meant. Confused Fiona had not answered. The very next day she had been privy to the conversations the women in her family had away from husbands, boyfriends, sons and fathers.

“Fiona dreamed last night,” her mother had told her mother-in-law excitedly.

“Does she know what it means?” her aunt had asked anxiously.

Her mother proudly shook her head then and recounted the dream for the listening gaggle. With gasps of delight and praises to the Almighty they had all regarded Fiona differently.

The Canters were a French Creole line. Originally, they intermixed with a line that had roots in Native America, Africa and Ireland. Now they were a rainbow people. The shades of relatives spanned the realm of possibility.

Fiona’s mother was Salvadorian. Her skin the color of burnished copper. Her hair fell blue black tightly curled and silky across her shoulders. Her light brown eyes always alight with seemingly forbidden knowledge.

A Canters man, her father was tan skinned by nature. His dark eyes and mixed features made it hard to place into a particular ethnic set. From that, Fiona had emerged a shade lighter than mahogany. Her eyes an almost eerie shade of dark grey. They looked lit from within as the iris closest to the pupil was a paler grey than the midnight that it changed into as it floated to the rims.

“Witch eyes,” her grandmother had said that night as the women talked. She took the child’s measure for the first time.

Fiona had starred up innocently into the clear hazel eyes of the paler woman. She felt that nagging suspicion of being in the presence of something that was more than it seemed. Of course as a child, she had no true idea of what it was. Just this sudden unmistakable unshakable awareness as she peered up at the woman. Always waiting for her to change form right before her eyes.

She had always been fearful of her father’s pale, hazel eyed mother. The woman had eyes that saw too much. They saw everything and communicated with the souls of others without their knowledge. These were things she had heard whispered growing up among the others.

The others were the ones of her family that had been born without that extra thing that most of the women had. It was a generation skipping instance. Every once in a while, a woman in their line was born without that extra sense of the world, without the vision to see into others through dreams, premonitions and senses that were a family birthright.

They were raised in a different way than those with sight. Still loved and shown the same affections and care. They were kept away from the ones who bared stunning signs and levels of awareness. It was a courtesy to both sides. The children would grow to understand and appreciate each other before they interacted. This way they could understand their differences and not treating each other badly over them.
Before the conception of every child, the women of the family dreamed. During the pregnancy, the women dreamed. They dreamed of the child they would bare. They would know before modern technology whether a boy or a girl would be born. When the mother conceived her entire existence was enrapt in the being she carried. Through their personal dreamscape, they would understand the nature of that child. How it should be raised and what it should be led to do.

Even those born without the special gifts procured to the blood line were dreamt of. Regardless of whether it had been given sight or not. One day they may raise a child that most likely would be given sight. Regardless, they needed to be raised in a fashion to be able to deal with their child’s gifts. That was why all dreams and premonitions centered on the child.


Fiona was the exception. Fiona’s mother Alejandra calls that time in her life ‘el negro’: 
The dark. For the first time in her life, she knew what it was to live as most people do. She had only common sense, instincts and logic to guide her way through. All of her dreams during Fiona’s conception and birth had been shielded from her. All premonition and sensory insight dulled to just instances of déjà vu. Her mother-in-law said it was because the child she carried was blank. Meaning there was nothing to see.

Coming June 2017

Friday, May 6, 2016

Tripping the Light Fantastic an excerpt from Shuttered Vision

Fiona was running, the earth was moving fast beneath her feet. She was laughing and playing.  The sun was bright and florid. The air rich with the scent of poppies.  She stopped running and started twirling in circles, just like she had when she was little.  The man that stared down at her was her favorite man in the world. She stopped spinning and threw herself into his waiting arms.

“Fee-Fee.” He said like he always had softly, quickly and yet insistently giving it all the French inclinations it desired. “What are you doing here?” he asked in his odd Spanish, Texan, French accent.

“I wanted to see you.”

He gave her that chiding look that only an overindulging father gives his child. “Petite, you have other things to do besides obsess over me.  How is your mother?”

“She misses you.”

He shielded his dark eyes. “And I her.  We will meet again she and I.”

“Soon?”

He gave her a firm look. “What have I told you about asking about the future?”

“Don’t do it.”

“You have something to do.” He stated as he gave her a final hug and then put her down.  He looked into the horizon of the grassy area that they were on.  It was like a still set almost.  Wind blew and there was grass and the smell of poppies but it was static, none moving giving cry to the illusion of the place.  With firm steps he walked to the edge of her vision and poked the sky.  It rippled from the spot.

“He’s eavesdropping.” He stated.

Fiona felt shock and surprise. “No one comes here but me, not even Momma. How--”

“He’s searching for you cherie. And he has found you.”

He moved now to stand behind Fiona, slowly he took her hand and moved it across the sky.  It felt like satin under her fingertips and like water the fabric of the sky parted and fell away to reveal her field and there was a tall blonde man standing in the middle of it.  Fiona turned to go back but it was too late, she was now in her field.

Instantly Fiona was enraged with the man. “What are you doing here and who in the hell are you?”

He stood there staring at her. “You can see me.” He said softly.

“Of course I can see you.”

He shrugged. “You were running and twirling, it looked like you were talking to someone but I didn’t see anyone else.”

Fiona felt herself take a deep breath. “What are you doing here?”

“Hiding.” He smiled back at her.

“Should I bother asking who you are?”

“I’m nobody darling.”

Fiona felt herself start to move towards him, but she didn’t walk.  It was almost as if he willed her to him and she merely floated over. She looked down and saw her field moving beneath her feet.  She tried a few times to stop the motion and was unsuccessful.

“What are you?” she asked in a ragged fashion.

“Just a man.” He said evenly.

“No way, no one does –“

“I know, no one controls this but you.”

She was right in front of him now. She was elevated so that she could look him in the eye.  His sea green eyes searched her face. “My those are amazing eyes you’re got.  With the right light, they’d film like a dream.  People would think they’re CGI’d.”

“I doubt I’m the filming type.”

“You’re right. You’re gorgeous but you’re built too much like a real woman for Hollywood.  It’s all about the illusion you see, trick the world into believing only filmable things should exist.  Very few men would even see your face with the rest of that displayed.”
Fiona felt herself blush.

“Beautiful lips.” And then he leaned into her.

Thursday, April 28, 2016

Sergei

Clair was admiring her shoes in the mirror when she heard the loud insistent knocking on the door.  She jumped and then started over to it.  His knock wasn’t quite a cop-knocking because it wasn’t the pounding normally associated with cops, but it was only a few notches down from that.  Clair opened the door and there stood one of the most attractive men she had ever seen.  He certainly hadn’t looked this dapper when they had first met. 
Sergei stood on the other side of the door with a single rose held against his chest, which was covered in a dark blue linen shirt that made his ice blue eyes really pop.  The slacks were also a linen it seemed and in the same shade.  His hair, which he wore just a touch long, was combed over and parted on the side.  It was such a nerd thing to do and it was one of the cutest things Clair had ever seen.  He stood ramrod straight, almost military straight as he let his eyes roam over her.  Clean shaven, his angular jaw line and ridiculous cheekbones were put on display framing his full lips as he softly smiled at her, finally meeting her eyes.
“Good evening Clair.” He drawled smoothly.
For a split second as she stared into his eyes as he smiled down at her, his deep voice caressing her, Clair did something she had never done before.  She went completely blank, no thought would cross her mind as she stared into his eyes.  She felt her mouth open but no words came out.  And that was when panic had started to set in.  Blinking rapidly she stood in the door facing him as her jaw flapped without voicing anything at all. 
Sergei arched a brow at her seemingly enjoying her display.  Mercifully he asked, “Can I come in?”
The question registered and Clair solemnly nodded and stepped aside so he could do just that. As he passed her, the frozen ‘deer in headlights’ feeling she had started to fade.  What in the hell was that, she frantically asked herself.  I acted like a deaf mute for a second there, he’s not that hot!! She could feel the last thought actually being yelled in her mind.  With a deep breath and a concert smile she turned to the large man that was standing in her living room.
“Sorry about that.” She said briefly.

He shrugged casually. “About what, it’s a compliment to render a woman dumb, deaf and blind for a second.” He paused and thought about it some. “Or it’s very sad.” He frowned as he thought about the other end of that.

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Tuesday, October 7, 2014

Woman to woman moments "Make Mine a Heel"

Banner grabbed his forearm. “How dangerous is whatever it is you’re doing?”
He sat back on his haunches, and Banner inwardly groaned knowing this was the precursor to him jacking with her. “You worried about something that isn’t real?”
“Don’t be an ass Keith, how dangerous?”
“One to ten about an eight,” he answered slowly.
“What do you classify as a ten?” she asked sharply.
“Smart woman,” Jason tossed in.
Keith crunched his face pinching one eye closed. “Anything involving open flames.”
Banner knew she paled. “What about something that draws blood?”
They both stared at her as if she was insane. Keith threw up his hands with an inscrutable look on his face. “Ummm, doesn’t get to register, that’s standard issue babe, like getting tackled in your tongue.”
Banner held out her hands trying to calm her rising temper. “Don’t call me babe, and what’s a one?” she finally got out.
“Any drop that’s more than ten feet.”
“So let me get this straight, much more dangerous than a drop from more than ten feet, but not as dangerous as open flames, just really close.”
Jason smiled. “I think that’s how he described it to Mr. Cassidy verbatim.”
“Not quite, but damned close.”  He took Banner’s shoulders.  “Look I love it that you are freaked out, but don’t be.  I’ve done much stupider things, trust me.  This is a baby bump in comparison.”
“You aren’t going to tell me what it is because it sounds really bad,” Banner guessed.
He gave her a slow meticulous smile with a chaste kiss on the cheek, and walked away with Jason.
“Good luck with that”, she heard from behind her.
She turned to face Sheryl Cassidy. “That man doesn’t heel worth a damn,” she finished with a knowing look.
“Part of the appeal,” Banner begrudgingly admitted. 
“Damn shame isn’t it? We only want the ones we can’t tell what to do.”
“How is Scott?”
Banner felt bad about asking the question as Sheryl’s face clouded with pain. “I wouldn’t know,” she admitted softly. “I haven’t spoken to him since I left him at the hospital.”  She cradled the clipboard she was carrying, and shook her head. “I don’t know what to do with him. He’s put me in such an awkward situation with the business and my family.”
Banner stepped up to the woman, and put a hand on her arm. “Still love him.”
“More now than before. I almost lost him.”  She sighed long and heavy. “But every once in a while a girl has to ask herself the same question that Anna Mae Bullock had to.”
Banner grinned recognizing Tina Turner’s real name. “What’s love got to do with it?”
Sheryl met her eyes, resolve spreading over her. “Honestly, can women like us afford it?”
They stood there for countless moments staring at each other understanding what was really being asked.  Could women in positions of power with the ability to change things for the better make any other choice than the one that benefitted them and those around them the most?  Could they just refuse the pull of advancement, and follow their hearts anymore?  Maybe a decade or two ago, but today.  The only women that truly wanted to be housewives already were, and loved the job.  The rest just weren’t cut out for it.
“So tempting to be selfish,” she whispered. “To just chuck all that could be done, and chase after that man.”  She shook her head. “I can’t drop the ball like that. Too many people suffer for it; and why, so that I can feel like everybody else.  Husband, 2.5 kids, the American Dream.”  She humphed harshly, and looked around. 
The noise was deafening.  There was a match going on in the ring.  Guys were running around yelling orders.  Her father had signaled her, and she had unconsciously made a notation to her clip board. With an ironic look on her face she met Banner’s eyes again.
“I’m not like other women. I’ll never be like other women.  So it just makes sense that my dreams are different.  I want it all Bay; the husband, the kids, the career, my life, my mark on this place.  For so long men got to do this; have it all.  The home and the career, and women were relegated to making it happen; being the crutch. It’s not fair, and it takes women like us to change it. But it’s hard; we have to do it the way that hurts the most. You cannot forsake one to have the other. They have to all find a way to coexist, so you stay with the one that needs you the most when it needs you.” She took a deep breath, and looked around. “This one needs me the most right now. Scott needs only himself.  If he’s worthy, he’ll see to it.  If not, I’ll find another.”
Sheryl stared at Banner for a moment longer and started talking mostly to herself. “If he’s the one, he’ll understand. Maybe not today; maybe not tomorrow, but someday. Don’t be tempted to stray.  You’ve got a job to do.” With a slight nod she continued past Banner, and took the reins of the backstage production.
Sheryl Cassidy was very good at her job.  She had what Teddy had referred to as good vision.  Banner had seen behind the scenes production for television, people that worked the mechanics of it all. She had seen people that were, okay, good, outstanding and clairvoyant.  Sheryl Cassidy was almost a level beyond clairvoyant.  It was easy to see why Keith had fallen in love with her.  Why all the guys were obviously crazy about her.  Besides being the bosses’ daughter she was humble, but not so much that you didn’t respect her.  She knew what she was talking about, and wasn’t afraid to follow through on it.  Whether Daddy approved or not.  If he didn’t, and she knew it was right, she changed his mind, or did it without him. 
Banner felt her head tilt as with stunning clarity she realized that she was practically looking at herself.  Just under different circumstances.  But unlike Banner, Sheryl had acknowledged instantly that she was in the presence of an equal.  They were women who didn’t focus on what women couldn’t do in their chosen fields.  They had instead made strides so that one day women could do anything in their fields, and thus anything in the world.
Banner took a deep breath feeling the plan take hold.  They could have it all couldn’t they?  God this was a gamble, she thought to herself.  The fallout initially would be immense, and Keith may not ever forgive her.  There was a story here, as a matter of fact there were a few. And while very compelling, the most important story here wasn’t Keith Daniels.  Banner stared after Sheryl for a few moments more.  With a deep sigh, she checked her tapes, and started to set aside paper for a different line of notes. 

With a nod she left her spot. “Hey Sheryl, wait up.”


Make Mine a Heel  On Kindle

Monday, September 29, 2014

Those With Sight

Book one of the Life Goes On series Arc One The Artists Book One "Those With Sight" Shuttered Vision


“What are you doing here?”  She snapped.

He smiled at the little beauty, she felt him as soon as he showed up this time.  She was getting better and better at it. He loved her dress.  It looked like it was patched together like a quilt. All those lovely loud and soft colors that did wonders for her dark skin. It fit her like a glove. She was shorter than him by five or six inches.  She wasn’t a very slender woman. Not fat by any means but she wasn’t one of those super slender super model skinny numbers he had gotten used to in Hollywood.  She had full breasts a slim waist, ample hips and thighs.  He was willing to bet the backside was as well thought out as the front. Her blue black hair fell in soft wavy curls to her shoulders thick and full. Those amazing gray eyes were on him.  She was furious.
“Mad at me for the stolen kiss?” he teased her.
“No I was mad at you for interrupting me with my father.”
“Your father, so you were talking to somebody.  Here I thought you were nuts.”
“You’re in my dream, I’m not the one that’s nuts.”
He laughed at the matter of fact way she said it. “How is that possible huh?  I can be in your dream but you can’t be in mine? I think you have that wrong.”
She just stared at him confused.  He tried to imagine her near him again.  It worked all of two seconds and then she stopped and stared at him.
“Stop that. If you want me to come over there, ask don’t demand.”
It was something about the way she said it made him ask instead. “Would you, if I asked?”
“Why don’t you find out?”
Seemed simple enough. “Will you stand closer to me?”
“How much closer, be specific.”
His hands itched, his mouth watered. “Close enough to touch.”
He watched spellbound as she shifted her hips stepping lightly and smoothly walking over to him.  The motion of her hips was distracting him.  She flowed like water, well set music.  He felt himself respond to her.
“Will you listen to what I have to say to you?” she asked.
“Why do women always need to talk, we have nothing to talk about.” He placed his hand on her face cupping her cheek, it felt like the smoothest silk. “Touching, that’s what we need to do.”
She cupped his hand in hers as she looked him in the eye. “Why are you here?”
He stared at her oddly as the question vibrated in his head like an echo.  Her eyes expanded and started to glow a bit.  He saw a part of her, like a shadow or illusion of her shift away from her and fly into him. He could feel her in his head starting to tear around.  His childhood flashed briefly in his mind and was passed on to his first sexual experience.  He was in his bedroom when he was 17, Janet Tully taking him into her hand for the first time.  He has his first realization about Hollywood as two skinny blondes with fake tits offer him cocaine on their exposed breasts.  The strips of his mind peeling away as he started to lose control of his motorfunctionality lying in the middle of his gameroom.

“No.” Colan sat straight up in bed naked sweating, breathing hard.  
He dropped his head into his hands, the dream vivid in his mind.  The feelings of helplessness and vulnerability were stark in his person. He threw himself back down on the bed with a thud, then gave a disgusted look at his sheet tenting over his erect penis.
“Well good to know you still work in moments of crisis.” He muttered.
He couldn’t blame it, she was gorgeous, that creature he had dreamed about constantly for months now.   Really it was the dreams before that had eventually led to her. It had started sometime after his nervous breakdown.  He would be sleeping and have the most horrific nightmares.  He was in hell and all around him were roaming beasts and fire breathing creatures.  And always some new lamb for the slaughter would drop from the sky and be unmercifully eaten.  He had tried to defeat the beasts and they would come back stronger, more evolved.  After months of these dreams he had resorted to trying to escape.  One night he had gotten to the top where people were dropped in and he had heard singing.
He closed his eyes and recalled the dream.  She had been singing Amazing Grace.  Simple lovely and it had actually sounded like salvation.  He had waited till she finished and then pulled himself up and he had been in that odd field.  She hadn’t seen him.  Just continued about her way.  She would lay in that field humming to herself.  She would do such odd things there as if she was somewhere else seeing something else.  It was like this odd form of pantomime. It wasn’t until a couple of weeks ago she had sensed him and now they actually spoke to each other.

He got out of bed to start his day.  It was such a silly foolish thing, his dream woman.  Everything about her was completely different from what he usually looked for in a woman.  She was a dark skinned brunette he usually went for pale blondes.  She didn’t mince words, his women where usually cunningly coy.  She stood up to him, he hadn’t had a women tell him no in a little over a decade.  The oddest part of the whole thing was that every once in awhile he had to work very hard to convince himself that what happened in his dreams wasn’t real.  That she wasn’t real.  He had done all kinds of research on it.  Dreams were just an extension of repressed desires.  Really he wanted something different from what he was and where he was and she represented it.
He stood in the shower letting the hot water fall over him.  He dropped his head and felt it running through his hair down his neck and shoulders. She was an interesting creation he had to admit. She was black from what he could tell, but those eyes and her hair, the black women back home had never looked like that, not women of any of the races he had grown up around.   There were things that were still considered taboo in Oklahoma, especially in the country.  Dating someone not of your same color was one of them.
Honestly he hadn’t ever really thought about it.  His mother hadn’t raised him to care.  But the people surrounding you always ingrained it in your make-up.  White privilege is what it was called by people who studied it.  This whole dichotomy of entitlement and empowerment. He knew about the theories, those with power and all that. He also knew that they were one hundred percent true.  This had been part and parcel to his breakdown.
All his life he had told himself that he wasn’t a racist.  That deep down inside he wanted equal rights for all people.  But the world was the way that it was and nothing could change that.  Such a scapegoat that was created with that one thought.  Colan knew better, he made movies, he created and recreated the world everyday, every week every hour as a new person was exposed to what he was directly responsible for creating.  
The world is not the way that it was because it just was, it was the way the people in power created it to be.  Through all open forms of media, radio, television and film Americans are being told what to do, how to do it and most importantly who to do it too.  It wasn’t too long until books and magazines converted and now you even had to second guess what you read in the newspaper.  Then the internet came along and changed the face of the game.  There was information out there for those willing to look for it about the true face of things in the media and the world.

Colan realized that he had gotten lost in his thoughts but like a well trained automaton had dressed himself, drank his morning health shake and was firmly seated behind the wheel of his jaguar.

Coming June 2015

Monday, December 19, 2011

What your parents can’t tell you about interracial dating


The truth is interracial dating is a lot more like all other forms of dating than some people would like to admit.  And maintaining an interracial relationship is still about the same things that none interracial dating is about.  Two people deciding if they can commit to each other.  Everything else is media driven hype.  Personally I’m not completely for or against interracial relationships, gay relationships, or hetero relationships between members of the same ‘race’.  I am on the side of love and love being able to infuse tolerance in all relationships regardless of the over reaching societal implications to forming a relationship. 

I find it interesting that everyone is willing to admit that interracial relationships suffer more problems than a same race relationship.  The fascinating part is all the reasons that are stated as to why that is that have nothing to do with the REAL reason why.  During this litany of reasons people will list things like suffering from the discrimination of others and what you will put your poor children through.

Stats
Ask someone why they are against interracial relationships and they will probably tell you all the things ‘other’ people will put you through.  Seeing as most of these people offering this helpful advice have usually not been in interracial relationships I find myself believing that they are telling you what they have put other people through.  Trust me, once you are in only one interracial relationship the knowledge carried away makes the experience worth it. Only someone who has not had a true caring relationship with someone of another race can hold on to the idea that these should not be seen out.  And usually in their descriptors for the ills of interracial relationships they refuse to even admit the real reason.  There is only one, ignorance.  Ignorance breeds hate, confusion, lies and ultimately untested theories of truth.

Family
The truth is that if your family has lived in America for a certain number of years in certain locales you like I have interracial relationships to thank for your current existence.  Therefore I think the lowest and most villainous reason people will ever give you is the aspect that you are somehow hurting potential future children by being in an interracial relationship. This is the lowest form of manipulation because it takes advantage of the idea that people want to put their children in the best possible position to achieve and live a full life.  The truth is only useless people live uninteresting lives that have enabled them to never confront with any adversity.  Without conflict children cannot become strong enough to deal with the pangs of life.  They instead become people who don’t understand how to deal when life deals them a rough hand and they have a hard time recovering.  If nothing else being of a multiracial identity builds perseverance, self- reliance and a need to develop a strong self-identity.

Often enough people who have been in interracial relationships will cite one more thing.  This thing is the way the couple actually relates to race with each other. Because race exists as a social construct the members of the couple will often have ingrained ideas that are a reflection of their thoughts on race.  More often than not the person that is willing to date outside of their race is also the person least willing to deal with the implications of race in the world.  They will often ignore and admonish the other party for being too sensitive while that party will criticize and judge the other for not being sensitive enough.  The bigger issue with this is the fact that both are actually so sensitive to the race issue that they make what other people perceive the entire focus of the relationship.  When actually it should bare as much weight as choosing a place to have dinner. That is where maturity comes in.

I will be the first to admit interracial dating does have issues that same race relationships don’t have.  The number one issue is whether or not the participants are mature enough to deal with a society that isn’t mature enough for open none guilt laden interracial dating.  The most damning and hurtful aspect to this is finding out the truth about the people you love.  Because in the course of even contemplating this as a choice you will learn beyond a shadow of a doubt where the people you love stand.  It doesn’t matter how ‘open’ the bulk of your friends and family are, someone in your immediate life will have a problem with it.  The people involved have to determine from point jump if being with this person is worth the potential drama proposed by others outside of the relationship.  This branches out to friends, co-workers, and casual strangers.  Yes you will notice a difference in how people treat you.  And if that isn’t enough to make you understand how alive and well racism still is then you need to give it a shot just to see.  Take minute and understand the nature of your privilege.

Hands
The issue with race is that it somehow negates something that is always present in relationships. With human beings comes opinions and people will judge whom you are with regardless of what they bring or don’t bring to the table.  People find issues with class, gender, ableism, you name it.  Some people will even complain about television and music preferences.  The bottom line is that no matter who you are with, there is going to be someone in your life who doesn’t really like them or the fact that you are together.  Maturity determines how much you let that dictate who is right for you and who isn’t.  In the end all those other people aren’t there and can’t really determine what is best for you.  Only you can do that.

Race is an insidious thing because it is solely dependent on perception.  Most times as many online ‘identify the race’ simulations prove, you can’t really tell what ‘race’ someone is by their appearance alone.  The human genome project has ventured into a wide array of explanations regarding this and why assumptions about personality, work ethic, or morality cannot be judged by the color of a person’s skin.  All human life on earth right now can be traced to a male and female ancestor in Africa.  This is not theorized or presumed, this is science. This is fact.

We as people have different experiences that have shaped us.  Many of these experiences have racial overtones because of the country that we live in.  We are all shaped by only watching bad racial stereotypes in our media, by accepting casual racism as a fact of life, and by not speaking up when unfair discrimination is taking place.  Every time you look away in the guise of ‘this isn’t a big deal’ is when you let it win.  When you don’t take something seriously that has the potential to hinder another person’s liberties and civil rights then you let it win. Because you aren’t personally exposed to this treatment does not mean it doesn’t exist.  In case you haven’t noticed racial demographics change every day.  When does the day come that you are the one being visited with this treatment that you choose to ignore?  Stop ignoring it, deal with it, and be the change that we all need to see.

Stats courtesy of http://www.pewsocialtrends.org/files/legacy/68-interior.gif

Family Courtesy of http://www.thegrio.com/assets_c/2010/04/celebs_interracial_marriages_proves_grass_not_greener_on_other_side-thumb-400xauto-8484.jpg

Hands Courtesy of http://multiamerican.scpr.org/files/2011/03/hands-300x423.jpg