Don't Apologize for Calling a Spade a Spade

“What do you mean? This is good info.”

“I’m not saying it isn’t.  It’s about how it was acquired.” He paused pacing, and stared aimlessly at the back wall. “Unless a person who would have this information legally claims to have given it to you.” He threw up his arms dramatically.  “It can’t be used.”

“In a court of law,” she finished as she dropped her ever-tiring head into her hands.  Abandoning that she popped her head up causing her hair to cascade over her head, and resettle disheveled. “So all this really did was put me on the chopping block.”

Thomas made an odd negative sound that was between a growl, and a hum as he started pacing again.  “Not necessarily; it gives us more than we had before.”

Not seeing the bright side like he was Charlotte hissed, “That being?”

Her sharp tone made him stop pacing, and turn to look at her as an odd expression briefly crossed his normally passive features. “A path.  We can figure out what he is doing, and how he’s been doing it.” Thomas nodded to himself. “I can use it to make him incriminate himself.”

He then looked at her for only the second time since he had determined that she needed to relocate.  The hard lines of his face softened slightly.  The difference was almost undetectable.  Most people probably wouldn’t notice, but Charlotte had.  It made his lips soften, and the crinkles around his eyes lessen.

“You need to sleep.” The statement was more of an order than an observation. 

Thomas walked back to the SUV, and pulled out her gym bag.  With a head gesture he inferred that she should follow him.  Feeling like she was just tired enough not to argue, Charlotte lifted herself from the chair, and fell into pace behind him as he began clearing the space to the staircase.  They went upstairs, and he opened the door of the first room.  Charlotte followed him, and it was like she was at the Hyatt all of the sudden.

The room was like a hotel room.  The furniture was wooden and in solid colors.  Not great, but not bad.  It was mostly sterile, and looked like a man had picked out everything.  There were no knick-knacks, just basics.  An ugly pasty green couch, a matching chair, and some dull wooden end tables were the highlights of the decor.  In the corner was a kitchenette with a full sized fridge, stove, dishwasher, and microwave.  The sink was a single basin with a washrag, and dish soap nearby.  The second door in the room lead to a bedroom that housed a king-sized bed covered in a hideous beige comforter, and some more of the dull wooden end tables the living area sported.

“Bathroom is connected to the bedroom,” Thomas said as he threw her gym bag on the bed, and started for the door.

Charlotte stared at the room, and grabbed the arm of the brooding man as he passed her.  She almost hissed at the warmth of him through her fingertips.  The feeling was short lived as he stopped, and removed her hand from his arm by grasping her wrist.  The action made her snap her eyes to his, and they held for a moment neither of them blinking for the space of two breathes.

“You’re safe here Charlie.”

“Tommy—,” she stammered not really believing that she had addressed him so familiarly.  It had to be her exhaustion because he had not done anything that would make her assume such an air with him.  The look that danced in his eyes for a moment could’ve been shock or anger.  She wasn’t sure, but she was sure that she had crossed some invisible line with the name that had fell from her lips.

 “Thomas,” she quickly corrected looking up at him.  “I didn’t mean— on the phone—”

He whipped her body into his, and ducked his head to seal his mouth to hers.  Charlotte felt the burn of his lips against hers.  The abrupt entry of his tongue pushing between her teeth made her stiffen, then practically melt against him.  Her wrists were captured behind her back by one of his larger hands.  The other hand had taken possession of her left butt cheek pulling her against his body.  She moaned in a haze of adrenaline, pleasure, and fear as she kissed him back with just as much ferocity as he was kissing her with.  His hips were grinding into hers.  She could feel the length of his erection between them.  With that knowledge her knees nearly buckled.  What she wouldn’t give to get her hands on him.

What had started as rough tongue stabbing was dissipating.  The forays he took between her lips were becoming more leisurely as he explored her mouth with long slow licks that drug his tongue over all of the surfaces of hers.  He would pull away slightly, and then decide that he wasn’t done, and take her mouth again.  This happened a few more times before he pulled back, and slowly licked his lips.  Panting they held there breathing each other’s air.  He let his eyes roam over her face.  She watched as they settled on her lips then flew back to her eyes.

“Don’t apologize for calling a spade a spade,” his deep voice was rough, and his accent was dominating his pronunciation.
An excerpt from Charlotte's Chance on Amazon, Barnes & Noble and Smashwords

And Now the Running

Sandra had a corner apartment on the third floor.  They were the only units in the building that offered the large obnoxious roman bathtubs.  The only draw back, if you saw it that way, was that they were at the end of the living group for the hallway.  The closest thing to her door was the fire escape across the hall. It was open, and Sandra loved to climb it instead of taking the elevator or the interior stairs.  In her heart of hearts Sandra was really a recluse, and this suited her.

While musing over the oddities that comprised her best friend, Charlotte had locked the door, and had that feeling. As soon as she had turned the bolt, the sudden creepy crawly feeling of being watched covered her.  It had been in a split second, but her mind had yelled RUN!!  She hadn’t thought about it, she had just reacted.  She had run to the elevator of the long hall way as the door was closing.  Then she bolted for the stairwell at the end of the hall.  Charlotte hadn’t heard the footsteps, but she had felt the eyes.

‘Don’t look back.’  She heard her brother in her head yelling at her.  The self-defense pointers he had given her starting to play in her mind. 

‘Focus on what is in front of you.  Will yourself to that place.’  She flew through the doorway to the stairwell. 

‘If you get a chance, hide, don’t try and outrun them.’

She turned the stairwell, and went up instead of down.  The stairwell was a myriad of walled half flights, carpeted, and quiet.  She crouched on the other side of the wall facing the steps leading to the next level hoping her pursuer didn’t realize that she was there.  Charlotte pressed her back to the wall of the stairwell flattening her palms near her hips.  She balanced on the balls of her feet ready to spring because of the low heels on her black boots.  Her breath was coming out loudly almost panting. The air-conditioned area was musty like carpet that had been left wet.  There was a single oval recessed light on each landing right above the open space before you stepped through the door.

The creaking of the door on the landing beneath her as it flew open made her stop breathing.  Charlotte swallowed her gasp. Her heart was beating so loudly it could probably be heard from the street. She flexed her hands against the wall willing herself not to move. Even as the slight sound of padded footsteps receding reached her she waited before she let out the breath she had been holding.

‘Be patient. Don’t make a mistake now. You’re almost there.’

Charlotte slowly moved away from the wall, and made her way back down to the landing she had come from.  She walked slowly, fearful that her pursuer would get wise, and come bolting back up the stairs at any moment. When she reached the hallway she stood nervously in front of the elevator knowing that she couldn’t go down it alone.  She paced a few moments as a crowd of young adults made their way to the elevator.  A few of the ladies had hair like hers.

‘Don’t shy away from people.  Other people are your best cover if someone is looking for you to be alone.’

She boarded the elevator with them.  They reached the garage under the building where she had parked her F-150.  Because of her brother’s diligent teachings, she always parked very close to elevators, and always under highly lit areas.  Charlotte streaked for her F-150, and got in locking the doors, and starting the truck in the same motion.  The creepy feeling returned, and for a split second she stared into the black eyes of a tall stocky man with a greasy look and feel to him.  His face snarled as she hit reverse, shifted to drive, and burned rubber pealing out of the parking lot.

It had all happened so quickly.  She had come home locked all her doors, closed all her blinds, and battled herself into not calling the police.  What would she say?  I think this guy was following me.  Oh yeah because my best friend and me have gotten ourselves into some serious trouble with a local oil baron.  And did I mention the CIA agent that kidnapped her off to Japan.

She had finally convinced herself that she would’ve sounded nuts.  At that time she most likely would have.  After all who was to say the guy didn’t need change or something.  Maybe he was a bill collector she had missed and was trying to find Sandra.  Charlotte had spent the night concocting an array of amusing, interesting antidotes that would explain what had happened at Sandra’s apartment.  Then it had happened again.

An excerpt from Charlotte's Chance on Amazon, Barnes & Noble and Smashwords

Fiona Canters excerpt from Shuttered Vision

She liberally applied the paint to the brush and dabbed the canvas at the right spots.  It gave the flower she was working on texture and depth.  It almost felt like the vivid shade she had seen in her dreams.  But there still wasn’t any amount or type of paint that could fully capture the texture of her dreams.  She placed the shades on her brush in the sky now and dotted the horizon.  The music playing in the background only made her hum slightly to herself following the rhythm and cadence.  She always painted to classic rock.  There was something primal about the way it moved and the way it was played that connected her with her dreamscapes almost seamlessly.  She imagined that bands like Led Zeppelin and Deep Purple conducted their music in that same place.  That was why it drew her there so completely.

Most people discounted dreams as merely unrealized desires, hopes and ambitions.  Small confessions from a person’s subconscious mind to their conscious.  These are the explanations given to them by the practitioners of psychology.  These ideals and thoughts have helped countless people deal with their neurosis and fears. For that reason, Fiona didn’t necessarily disagree with these thoughts.  She just thought it was rather limited.

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 and 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 and then 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 that intermixed with a line that had roots in Native America, Africa and Ireland. Now they were a rainbow people where the shade 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, dark eyed and hard to place into a particular ethnic set.  From that Fiona had emerged a shade lighter than mahogany, eyes an almost eerie shade of dark grey making them look 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 and she took the child’s measure for the first time.

Fiona had starred up innocently into the clear hazel eyes of the paler woman and 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 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, but 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.  Understanding 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, knowing 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. And 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, it would one day raise a child that most likely would be given sight.  And 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 around 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 life.  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. 

For the longest time they thought Fiona was going to be stillborn. Her mother’s gift hiding what was to come to save her enduring the pain more than once. Because of the circumstances of Fiona’s conception and birth she was raised with the children that the family knew possessed none of the gifts.

“At times mi amor, I can see what I must do with you and then I do it and like that its gone.”  Her mother would sometimes whisper at her temple as she put her to bed at night.

It wasn’t until much later at the age of 10 as Fiona started to have actual premonition episodes did she understand what her dreams as a young child meant. Slowly over the years the pieces had started to put themselves together and it implied things about her that was unnatural even for her family.

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.

Other Posts on this book:

That Scene with Sergei and Clair

Sergei

Clair Fair

Love is Queen

So a Psychic and a Rocket Scientist Walk into a Bar

Grab your copy of So a Psychic and a Rocket Scientist Walk Into a Bar

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How to Survive Running Away With the Circus – The Conclusion

By Banner Hemweigh

When I researched fan sites, books, and magazines, I noticed that no one really talked about story and plot lines.  The focus was always on the people themselves. The fan base is curious to know these people, not the basics of the sport.

For a decent amount of the world, somehow these characters have transcended the ideas that have always made professional wrestling a joke among other professional athletes. Were I covering professional wrestling strictly for the athletic appeal it would hold very little paper, and very little ink.  But that is because I’m a sports writer, and the things I would focus on bear no weight in the competition that is actually being waged.

The feats that are conducted are very athletic.  The physical and muscle control of most of these performers is inspiring to behold.  So it isn’t the nature of the physicality of the sport that makes me say this.  It’s the nature of the degrees of success.  They aren’t rated by numerical terms.  Success is gauged by crowd control. We aren’t talking stats and numbers; this is about emotion.  This is not to say that most athletic competitions aren’t emotional.  They are, but you cannot break down the field of professional wrestling to cold hard brass tacks.  The true scope of this is not as cut and dry as a football game where there is an absolute winner, and an absolute loser.  What is being achieved is failure for some, and success for others; which if done well, is success for all. 

The storylines should be critiqued like television sitcoms.  The performance should be rated by those knowledgeable about delivery, timing, and the physical challenges of a ring performance.  The quality of show production should be gauged by members of like entertainment vehicles, and rated as such.

Should professional wrestling be covered like a sport?  No. However it should be covered as an alternative form of live theatrical entertainment that just happens to be a sport.  Which is exactly what it is.

I found myself comparing what I saw with the circus.  A very suitable analogy when you consider all of the parts that constitutes a circus; part drama, part skill, and always loads of artistry.  The biggest difference is public perception.  After all, no one questions whether or not the tight rope walker is actually on a tight rope.  No one asks if the trapeze artist is truly using a trapeze.  Wouldn’t it be nice if no one questioned whether or not that man just jumped off of a ladder?

Professional wrestling is a part of American culture, just like football.  The swarms of fans, the dedicated workers, and the billion dollar revenues don’t lie.  And while I am not qualified to cover it, there are people out there who are.  What I would like to see is someone covering it properly to garner the respect it deserves.  Because, in the words of my favorite professional wrestler 3D, “whether you like it or not, it’s the best thing going.”

From Make Mine a Heel by Suenammi Richards

Amazon

Barnes & Noble

Smashwords

"I liked this story. I'm not a big romance fan, but first this writer knows her stuff about football, Texas culture, and pro-wrestling. Second, the romance sucked me in. I wanted these two to get together because I genuinely liked them. This story is a Powerslam for any romance/sports fan!"

@alchemyofscrawl - Coral Russell

"I have to say I am a professional wrestling fan so this book really caught my interest as soon as I read the description. I very much enjoyed this book and definitely most likely will be reading it again at a late date."

-Geeky Girl Reviews

"This isn't a garden variety romance novel featuring sports or wrestling. Ms. Richards has provided the reader with plenty of colorful characters that are dealing with sad, if not tragic, circumstances (racism, child abandonment, ethnic prejudice, drug abuse, etc.). I was pleasantly surprised by how much I enjoyed this book."

-The Book Diva

How to Survive Running Away With the Circus – The Performer

By Banner Hemweigh

Keith Daniels is one of the most respected men in his field these days.  He is always greeted when he arrives; his word in the ring rates as law, and no one second-guesses him.  There isn’t a performer that is trusted more whether in the ring, or out of it. He stands a stunning 6 feet 9 inches tall with the athletic versatility of a triathlete in a 280 pound frame.  He has a natural charisma that hums off of him, the diction of a scholar, and if that isn’t enough, he ain’t bad on the eyes.  He’s also the biggest, baddest heel professional wrestling has ever seen.

According to HWE statistics, on average roughly 30% of a live audience will actively jeer a character that is a successful heel, or ‘bad guy’ character.  In industry speak, it’s called heat, and it is the initial response of an audience that knows you’re coming out to see them. For a face, which is the standard ‘good’ guy, it’s called pop, and the pop ratio is relatively higher, roughly pushing towards the 60% mark. It is very hard to generate enough emotional distain to convince a crowd to waste the energy to boo you when it could be used cheering on their face.  These are factors that alter nightly, by locale.

On any given night, in any arena, anywhere in the world, Keith Daniels as 3D will generate heat that is closer to 50%. This average is said to only increase after he has been talking for 30 seconds or more, a ratio that insiders call ‘outrageous’.  Like all things there are exceptions, but with the truth of professional wrestling being broadcast, it’s harder to generate actual distain.  Everyone knows you’re acting.  So how does he do it?

Teddy Rogers recalls meeting a ‘skinny, scrawny 15 year old’ wanting to be trained to wrestle.  Now he refers to this same man as a gift to the industry. Teddy has an idea of what makes Keith Daniels the man that he is.

“Something in that boy that you don’t find everyday.  Is it will, spirit, drive.  Boy has more charisma in his pinky finger than most guys have in their entire bodies; more athletic ability than an Olympian, and I still can’t find anything to compare with the amount of heart he has.”

When asked when he knew he was ready for the ring, the champ is humble.

“Some days it’s when I got through my first televised match without a missed cue. Other days it’s when I finally convinced Teddy to start training me.  But most days, I’m still waiting.  It’s hard to determine ready for a field that is constantly in flux.” 

The man known as the selfish mouthy 3D comes off as unassuming.  The intelligence of the man is evident in his speech.  His respect for his peers and contemporaries pours out of him at every opportunity.  And his love for the fans is inspiring.

After the pay per view in his hometown of Dallas, TX, I conducted a final interview with Keith Daniels, and asked him to sum up what this profession has done for him.

“It’s provided more than just a paycheck.  It’s given me focus when I don’t have it.  Clarity when I can’t think clearly.  It’s shown me the levels of myself that I didn’t know I had.  I wasn’t always a good person, but I am a better one today, and I know it has a lot to do with what I choose to do for a living, and more importantly, how I choose to do it.”

From Make Mine a Heel by Suenammi Richards

Amazon

Barnes & Noble

Smashwords

"I liked this story. I'm not a big romance fan, but first this writer knows her stuff about football, Texas culture, and pro-wrestling. Second, the romance sucked me in. I wanted these two to get together because I genuinely liked them. This story is a Powerslam for any romance/sports fan!"

@alchemyofscrawl - Coral Russell

"I have to say I am a professional wrestling fan so this book really caught my interest as soon as I read the description. I very much enjoyed this book and definitely most likely will be reading it again at a late date."

-Geeky Girl Reviews

"This isn't a garden variety romance novel featuring sports or wrestling. Ms. Richards has provided the reader with plenty of colorful characters that are dealing with sad, if not tragic, circumstances (racism, child abandonment, ethnic prejudice, drug abuse, etc.). I was pleasantly surprised by how much I enjoyed this book."

-The Book Diva

How to Survive Running Away With the Circus – The Payoff

So why do this for a living?  A profession that endears criticism, seems to have lackluster benefits, and a more than challenging pace?  For love of performing was the number one answer. And the ability to make your own way best stated by Teddy Rogers.

“Does this sport show a boy what he’s made of?  Yes.  Does it grind up boys that aren’t made of enough up?  Yes.  Does it reward those who are tough enough?  Every time.  Not many things in this life have that kind of return anymore.”

The opinion is that for those that see it out, there is no other way to live.  What I found was a culture of respect, trust, and value that is sometimes lost in other professions, but is a necessary element in this one. Over and over again I was told stories about the tragedies of life, and what hole was filled by this business from individuals who may have found themselves in much more tragic circumstances had this not been an open option for them.

Sheryl Cassidy shares a very similar view of the profession with ring legend Teddy Rogers, and views the business as having an open door policy.

“This place is for freaks and outcasts, the common man, and the uncommon one.  The parts of society that the upper crust likes to pretend don’t exist.  Here the American dream still lives.  Anybody, from any walk of life, any background, any ethnicity, any creed can come, and if they are willing to work hard they can achieve whatever they want.  The world is open here, and we turn no one away unless they prove they are unwilling to work hard”

From Make Mine a Heel by Suenammi Richards

Amazon

Barnes & Noble

Smashwords

"I liked this story. I'm not a big romance fan, but first this writer knows her stuff about football, Texas culture, and pro-wrestling. Second, the romance sucked me in. I wanted these two to get together because I genuinely liked them. This story is a Powerslam for any romance/sports fan!"

@alchemyofscrawl - Coral Russell

"I have to say I am a professional wrestling fan so this book really caught my interest as soon as I read the description. I very much enjoyed this book and definitely most likely will be reading it again at a late date."

-Geeky Girl Reviews

"This isn't a garden variety romance novel featuring sports or wrestling. Ms. Richards has provided the reader with plenty of colorful characters that are dealing with sad, if not tragic, circumstances (racism, child abandonment, ethnic prejudice, drug abuse, etc.). I was pleasantly surprised by how much I enjoyed this book."

-The Book Diva

How to Survive Running Away With the Circus – The Price

By Banner Hemweigh

Employees to the HWE are contracted much like any other sport.  These contracts are negotiated prior to performing, and are quite binding. Almost all contracts given by the HWE leave most of the expense of the profession with the athlete.  All travel is arranged, and paid for by the performer.  Only a select few get the company treatment where all is arranged for them.  The performers are considered freelance agents.  Without being recognized by artist guilds or athletic unions, this business is left in the hands of the provider of work, and is without specific regulations.

According to HWE Head Project Manager and On Site Liaison Sheryl Cassidy the level of commitment needed to successfully perform the job and compensation are not equitable to the performer.

“Roughly you make maybe $500,000 a year, mid-carder money.  The bigger stars can go past the million dollar mark if they play their cards right.  So you pay for all travel, hotel, transportation, and just what’s needed for a life on the road.   You take pay cuts if you get injured, pay cuts if you don’t get booked for a pay per view, pay cuts if your merchandise doesn’t sell.  Also the HWE offers no benefits. No retirement, healthcare, or even the basic standards for working in other industries such as disability, accidental death and dismemberment options.  Which in this business, should be a part of the contract.  These are things you have to acquire on your own.  When you factor in hours actually worked, hours spent going to work, and all else in between with fan events and charities it’s considerably more than a standard full time job that only requires a 40-hour workweek. I hate to say it but my family runs what is actually a modern day high paying sweatshop.  Employees spend most of their money and time paying to work.”

The ideas expressed by Sheryl Cassidy come in light of her own personal crisis as she finds herself the daughter of the company, but the girlfriend of a performer.  This insight has crossed the barriers that had normally been in place for decades, and it’s forced the second daughter of HWE owner Thomas Cassidy to take another look at what her family has helped cultivate.

There can be a case made that most entertainment careers carry the same type of policies.  Actors on stage and screen, professional musicians, professional dancers lead very similar lives.  But according to Sheryl Cassidy, with the amount of money being generated the compensation should either be more or benefits should be given for all, and not just case by case.

“Professional dance is a great example.  The larger more successful companies give contracts that take care of everything from living arrangements to paid leave.  Because their bodies are their livelihood they have to treat it that way.  When a dancer gets injured they don’t lose money because they were contracted for a specific period of time, not for how many shows they do, or don’t do.  As the top draws they’ve earned the respect of their peers, and expect the company to take care of them.  Unions have been created to see to the special needs of professional artists and athletes.  It’s long past due for professional wrestling.”

Unlike other contracted sports and performing arts companies, professional wrestling is not seasonal.  Within the HWE organization, usually the only time that a performer receives a break is through an injury. No HWE performer gets paid while injured even though most injuries are received on the job.  With contracts that average 3 or more years of a nearly none stop work load it cannot be compared with even Hollywood movie contracts that pay millions for under a year’s worth of work.  

From Make Mine a Heel by Suenammi Richards

Amazon

Barnes & Noble

Smashwords

"I liked this story. I'm not a big romance fan, but first this writer knows her stuff about football, Texas culture, and pro-wrestling. Second, the romance sucked me in. I wanted these two to get together because I genuinely liked them. This story is a Powerslam for any romance/sports fan!"

@alchemyofscrawl - Coral Russell

"I have to say I am a professional wrestling fan so this book really caught my interest as soon as I read the description. I very much enjoyed this book and definitely most likely will be reading it again at a late date."

-Geeky Girl Reviews

"This isn't a garden variety romance novel featuring sports or wrestling. Ms. Richards has provided the reader with plenty of colorful characters that are dealing with sad, if not tragic, circumstances (racism, child abandonment, ethnic prejudice, drug abuse, etc.). I was pleasantly surprised by how much I enjoyed this book."

-The Book Diva

How to Survive Running Away With the Circus – The Job

By Banner Hemweigh

In laymen’s terms, the job is hard.  Annually the HWE produces 12 three hour-long high impact Pay Per Views.  Once a week they stage a mid to high impact two hour long televised showing.  When there is not a pay per view within the week they host at least 3, but never more than 6, two to three hour long low to mid impact non televised ‘House shows’ for limited live audiences.  Since the HWE is international, the schedule also includes exclusive high volume showings in other countries besides America. The shows have professional guild writers, medical staff on hand, hair and makeup crews, top notch pyrotechnics and prop guys, film editing savants able to do it on the fly with only a few hours lead in, and more runners than you can shake a stick at. It is in essence a traveling stage show. All of these components are necessary to set the stage for the main attraction, the performers.

As I learned quickly, the main focus is entertainment through athleticism.  The impact of the job itself bears heavy weight.  The level of stunt work that is done, while safe in increments, can lead to long-term health complications. Without proper conditioning, training, and a trusted medical professional, some of the more unfortunate performers can sustain lifelong disabilities like any other athletic endeavor.

The best of the best combine a signature style of ring performance with basic improvisational and script based acting. As with all things, some are better at it than others.  According to retired legendary ring technician and current HWE trainer Teddy ’Wildman’ Rogers, professional wrestling is a tribute to what came before.

“You’ll be hard pressed to find any live TV anymore.  Even the news is tapped ahead of time. In the ring is a mix of acting, athleticism, and passion.  For the Ancient Greeks theatre was over the top everything.  Costumes, staging, props, sights, sounds, and antics.”

Were the Ancient Greeks watching they would most likely recognize the flair for the flamboyant that most of the performers embody.  An average match is anywhere from 5 to 20 minutes of almost constant motion. This requires focusing on timing, story, and technique all at once. A few of the performers are able to pull off an ironman match.  An ironman match lasts from anywhere between 30 minutes to an hour.  The conditioning for such a feat is most likely found only in Broadway performers, professional dancers, and opera singers.  Very few sports professions leave men out on the field of play for longer than 30 minutes. The men who can and do are superstars of their field, much like professional wrestling.

Then there are the gimmick matches which have gained popularity over the years.  The HWE has put on matches that have involved everything from axes to zambonis.  These matches are usually referred to by the extra prop that will be used, or simply as a ‘hardcore’ match up.  During these matches stunts are higher impact.  The risk of injury is higher, but so is the entertainment level. Some performers have established themselves by signature performances in one of these memorable standout matches.

No one becomes a top tier performer by having just a great look, being great just in matches, or just on a mic.  The idea is to be good to great at all.  In order to be successful the performer has to be able to do it all, have a viable image, a great persona, and nearly flawless ring technique.  

From Make Mine a Heel by Suenammi Richards

Amazon

Barnes & Noble

Smashwords

"I liked this story. I'm not a big romance fan, but first this writer knows her stuff about football, Texas culture, and pro-wrestling. Second, the romance sucked me in. I wanted these two to get together because I genuinely liked them. This story is a Powerslam for any romance/sports fan!"

@alchemyofscrawl - Coral Russell

"I have to say I am a professional wrestling fan so this book really caught my interest as soon as I read the description. I very much enjoyed this book and definitely most likely will be reading it again at a late date."

-Geeky Girl Reviews

"This isn't a garden variety romance novel featuring sports or wrestling. Ms. Richards has provided the reader with plenty of colorful characters that are dealing with sad, if not tragic, circumstances (racism, child abandonment, ethnic prejudice, drug abuse, etc.). I was pleasantly surprised by how much I enjoyed this book."

-The Book Diva

How to Survive Running Away with the Circus – Opening Act

By Banner Hemweigh

Recently my editor called me into his office with a proposal. Go check out professional wrestling, and tell me what you see. I was naturally appalled and offended. I’m a football girl; there was no way I’m going to enjoy what I see. But with an open mind, open attitude, and a gracious tour guide, I was able to navigate the traveling circus that is professional wrestling, and come out with the bare bone facts about this pseudo sport.

Here are the facts. The Hypokritis Wrestling Exposition is the biggest professional wrestling promotion in the world, and boasts a billion dollar budget. Through merchandising, pay per view sales, and live events on an international scale, they have managed to leave behind the bargain basement approach that was once the staple of professional wrestling. This is high velocity, high gloss, high impact entertainment creating a different kind of celebrity as is demonstrated by the many websites, magazines, and diverse fan base it holds.

With that in mind, I begin to feel out the rest. My first issue is the one that everyone tends to focus on. It’s fake. Yes and no. The outcomes are predetermined, but the hazards are quite real. I believe its best explained by the current HWE heavyweight champion, Dominique ‘Dangerous’ Dutton, also known as 3D by wrestling fans. 3D is the stage name of Keith Daniels, a man who has lived his life in this business making the best of what he finds. Upon expressing my views about the validity of the action in the sport he calmly says, “You can’t trick gravity.” Point taken.

With that main deterrent gone, I can now get into the mechanics of this activity, which is in fact a sport. I know; I was surprised to discover this as well. But my able tour guide, Keith Daniels, who is an art enthusiast, ex-stunt driver, and 9 credits shy of a Bachelors of Art in History, was very specific about the definition of the word sport. And it applies to this sport completely.

What I found was a lot of talented individuals with a dedication to one thing and one thing alone, a great show. The basis of the sport is a show; an athletic competition that is meant to appeal on more than one level. Like any show, the truth of the affair is behind the scenes. There are stories of triumph and tragedy, chaos and discord, constant lobbying for space and screen time. Pushing for better stories, better angles, and always, better merchandise. It’s like Hollywood on steroids, in some cases literally, and without the security of a standardized union job.

Over the next 5 days I will be detailing my journey with the biggest traveling circus the world has ever seen. Through the eyes of a vaunted legend, the reigning champ, and the inheriting daughter of an empire, I’ll pull back the curtain, and reveal the magician for all to see.

From Make Mine a Heel by Suenammi Richards
Amazon
Barnes & Noble
Smashwords

"I liked this story. I'm not a big romance fan, but first this writer knows her stuff about football, Texas culture, and pro-wrestling. Second, the romance sucked me in. I wanted these two to get together because I genuinely liked them. This story is a Powerslam for any romance/sports fan!"
@alchemyofscrawl - Coral Russell

"I have to say I am a professional wrestling fan so this book really caught my interest as soon as I read the description. I very much enjoyed this book and definitely most likely will be reading it again at a late date."

-Geeky Girl Reviews

"This isn't a garden variety romance novel featuring sports or wrestling. Ms. Richards has provided the reader with plenty of colorful characters that are dealing with sad, if not tragic, circumstances (racism, child abandonment, ethnic prejudice, drug abuse, etc.). I was pleasantly surprised by how much I enjoyed this book."

-The Book Diva