A Message to the VIP's!

The other day I was perusing through my hard-drive and noticed the progress I've made in my writing. The growth in my storylines and characters were amazing, especially skimming through the pages. But I also noticed something else – all were completed, and the ones that weren't were at least to 50,000 words or more. Then it suddenly became apparent that my hard-drive was not a place to store my creative ideas but becoming a library of unpublished work. And, for me, that’s not a good thing.

The longer I gazed at one of my titles, the further my heart sank. My self-confidence, along with my namesake – faith (which means Imani) – had come to a sudden halt. Everything I’d believed up to that moment had crumbled into tiny, depressing pieces. So much so, I felt I was running backwards in a marathon on a slick oil surface, while my colleagues were happily skipping through the meadow to the halfway marker.

However and without over-dramatizing the situation, I’m at a better place than I were weeks ago. No, I haven’t inherited any money; nor found an agent – nothing remotely close. I discovered a common-sense approach to work though the chaos: learning to let go.

Now when I mean ‘letting go’, I don’t mean giving-up. The definition itself means to verbally act in defeat. And, this journey has far defeated me. When I mean ‘letting go’, I mean allowing God, Allah, Yahweh, Jehovah, or the Higher Power to take control. Truthfully, no human soul has ever met success alone. Your favorite celebrities didn’t make it to stardom by themselves. When these celebs win an accolade or an award, what’s in most of their acceptance speeches? I want to thank soing-so, like managers, agents, mentors, and fans, right?

Let me give you an example about letting go: The Journey of Ruthie Belle – my soon-to-be freshmen novel, my baby, and my fourth child. The editing has been completed, it’s been typeset, and proofread, and all it needs is to be printed. The intended release date was suppose to have been during the 50^th anniversary of the March on Washington (August 28). It would have also marked an approximately one year of Zion’s Road release, as well as the grim anniversary of Emmitt Till’s brutal death. With the release of TJRB during that week would’ve not only been perfect, but if you guest-read the manuscript along with reading of Zion’s Road, you would’ve discovered my hidden inspirations.

I won’t get into details as to what has happened. However, I will say being an indie author in an already fickle business is tough. Things will go awry when we least expect it. Having said that, TJRB is not dead – actually it’s ready for release but it has to overcome one more hurdle. And as soon as I achieve that goal, I will let you, the VIP’s, know a definitive date.

Weeks ago I grew weary for fear of disappointing you fine people. But I realized after the tears and lots of prayers, I had to let it go and to put it in the right Person’s hands. I mean…hello…He gave me the talent to write, so I’m sure He knows what He’s doing.

So please don’t give up me on yet, the ride has only begun.

Love,

Imani Wisdom

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WHAT NON-POETS DO WHEN WE'RE BLISSFULLY CONTENT

My beacon that shines above

that illuminates a weary soul.

You’re a blessing with no disguise;

a right thief that comes gently

into the night.

How long has it been?

Days turned to weeks;

then weeks turned to months

Now years?

And yet, you’re still here;

patiently waiting for that day

when you and I are more than you and I

When two souls emerge into an infinite one.

You’ve shown me patience

You’ve shown me kindness

You’ve never, ever, boast

You’re never, ever, been the type to self-seek

You’re just a man, a unique man

Who flaws I adore more

than the rest of your perfections.

I care for more of who you are

than what you are.

I heed to your grace;

the darkness of your skin

Your exquisite smile

Your God-fearing ways

And yet I’m waiting for that day;

when saying those words,

those ever precious,

sacred words

rolling from my lips

onto yours

with a thunderous, yet sweet kiss.

To be bound by your soul

To be enamored by your wit

To be enthralled by compassion

I hunger for your desire

I yearn for your strength

You’re my midnight

as I’m your stars,

painting through the sky.

With a stroke of destiny’s brush;

allowing the wind to create something

special

perhaps, a prelude to such

Still, you’re a man who’s never been proud

Not easily-angered

or point out wrongs

You’re just man, a unique man

who rides on hope when it’s rare to hope

who’s faithful when faithless is the trend.

A man who I respect,

my lover, my best friend.

I’m not a poet by heart

Hopeless romantic on occasions,

but a woman with this expression

that run deep,

deep beyond any emotion.

Feelings are so overwhelming

they’re like a riveting potion

So, yes, I feel the same way

And still hoping to the day;

when you and I becomes an infinite one.

Blissfully content.

Blissfully done.

To be continue…

©2013, Imani Wisdom

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C. Michelle Ramsey Ask 'Is The Grass Really Greener?'

*CONTEST IS CLOSED

 I have one word for this talented author: Genuine. Year ago I’d taken the liberty to meet this wonderful writer when she reviewed my novelette, Zion’s Road. Though it wasn't her kind words I received in her review I found her fascinating, but her innate spirit. So I’m pleased to introduce you to this week’s guest blogger – C. Michelle Ramsey, the author of the new book, Is The Grass Really Greener? Also, show some love by leaving a comment on this post. By doing so, you’ll be automatically qualified to win a free copy of this new release.

IS THE GRASS REALLY GREENER?

Five women, five lives, five secrets. Each woman is battling her own personal demons, and hiding a secret from her friends and family.

Each of them envies another's life, wishing her life was different, wishing she had what the other woman had. But what happens when what appears to be real, is all a façade?

Battling breast cancer, single parenthood, infidelity, the loss of a child, and managing the single life, can become overwhelming for these ladies.

Not satisfied with their lives, looking for something better, they contemplate alternative choices to improve their lives; crossing over to the other side of the fence is a very real possibility. We can't see beyond the choices we make, but we must be held accountable for them.

And after they have crossed the fence, they realize two things simultaneously. Yes, the grass was greener on the other side; and also their grass could have been just as green had they taken care of it. 

EXCERPT:

Courtney found herself nodding her head to the beat of the music, more than she was focused on her report. Anita Baker’s “I Apologize” was on the radio playing softly in the background on KSTORM. She had to get this report done for tomorrow morning’s budget meeting. Stretching back in her chair, she let out a long yawn and shook her head to shake the sleep off. It was 11:55 at night and she knew that she had to be up at four in the morning. But these numbers just weren’t shaking out right.

The right thing to do would be to put it away and go upstairs with Nate and go to bed. She found herself going to bed after her husband more and more these days. She used to be the one who was knocked out by eight or nine o’clock, but not anymore. Some nights she was still up until two or three in the morning, if she didn't have an early day at the office. Nate didn't question it, because he didn't want to be bothered with her anyway. She couldn't remember the last time they had sex. She stopped to ponder that thought, had it really been five months now? Damn, it had. Seems as if she was always attempting to get him in the mood, and the last time she had done that he had brushed her off and he didn't show even the slightest interest in her.

“Lonely hearts, find someone to love. Fellas, take care of your women; remember to love them long and strong, ‘cuz if you don’t, another brother will. And to all my lovely ladies, I’m wishing you a good night out there in the ATL; thanks for spending another night with me. And come back tomorrow for another night of love with Hypnotiq on the Storm.”

And with that he blew his traditional kiss and Pierce was off the radio for the night. As if this were some subliminal cue, Courtney closed her folder, switched off the radio on the bookshelf behind her, walked over to the doorway, switched off the light in her office, and walked upstairs to her bedroom. She was halfway up the steps when it hit her.

Damn, she thought to herself, I’ve been staying up half the night every night to hear the voice of a stranger. I’m falling for a man who I don’t even know. She started walking back down the steps to her office and flicked on the light and sat in her chair behind her desk.

Courtney furiously ran her hands through her hair shaking her head in disbelief. What the hell is this? I’m falling for a man I don’t know? He’s a kid from the old neighborhood that’s what it’s got to be. He brings back pleasant memories for me at this rough time in my life. Hell I had one cup of Joe with this man and ran into him at my art exhibit, and I sit up every night to hear his voice on the damn radio, how pathetic am I? He might have a girl, hell for all I know he might not be interested in women anyway, or black women, she shook her head laughing at that one. The way he came on to her that night she highly doubted it.  “This is crazy, it doesn’t even matter. I’m a married woman…not happily, but I’m married just the same and I love my husband with all my heart,” she said aloud, “I’m taking my butt to bed, I’m tired…that’s what it is,” and once again she repeated the steps she had just taken, not even three minutes earlier.

But this time when she got to the bedroom Nate wasn’t asleep. He was sitting in the bed staring at the TV. She could tell he wasn’t watching it. Courtney decided it would be best to not say anything, because she didn’t want to argue. All of their words turned into arguments these days and they couldn’t have decent communication. But it wasn’t to be.

“Courtney, I want a divorce,” Nate said.

Thinking she must have lost her mind, or maybe forgot to clean the wax from her ears, she turned over in the bed to face him. “Huh?” she said, a little befuddled.

“I want a divorce,” he repeated in that same monotone he had just used.

“Why?” she asked with panic rising up in her throat.

“I don’t wanna be here anymore, I can’t do this,” he explained.

“Do what Nate?”

“Do us, this thing we call a marriage, this faking it we’re doing day by day, I can’t do it anymore,” he said with a little emotion coming into his voice.

“Look Nate, I know that you’re hurting, I’ve been hurting, too. And what’s hurting the most is that you’re shutting me out. You won’t even talk to me. I know you’re grieving baby, we’re both grieving, but you didn’t suffer this loss alone. I did, too and just like we lost him together we have to find a way to heal together, to go on with our future,” she pleaded.

“I don’t think you heard me. There’s no future for us,” Nate responded a little more passionately this time.

C. Michelle's Bio

An avid reader since her primary years, Michelle saw books as an escape mechanism. Excited by the worlds, and characters that could be created with a touch of the imagination, she began writing her own stories at the age of 12. The more enamored with storytelling she became, the more she wanted to create stories about the suffering, and hardships she saw others enduring, with one twist…her characters would rise above their adversities and limitations, but not always with traditional endings.

This busy wife, and mother of three, exchanged her Girl Scout Leader pins for her creative writing pen, as she began to focus on publishing her novels. In her spare time, when she isn’t writing, she enjoys reading mystery novels, watching NBA, remodeling their home with her husband, and spending time with him and their children. Having recently received her MBA in Human Resource Management, she says she cannot wait for the day when writing becomes her full-time career. “If I can show my readers they are not alone, in dealing with their challenges, and that they can rise above their limitations, I have achieved my goal,” Ramsey says.

Contact Info:

Website: www.cmichelleramsey.com

FB: Author C Michelle Ramsey

Twitter: @CMichelleRamsey

Blog: www.writingmydreams.com

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The Best Decision Ever...

Your path is your path; there’s no need to share it with those whose ideas and intentions create an unstable pavement in the road. – Imani Wisdom

As much as I tried, and as much as that voice whispers, that quitting could prevent the unexpected to come like a thief in the night and rob me of my joy. Relinquish any or all of my dreams for a lesser and simplistic life. Forget the late nights of writing while the rest of world sleeps; or sacrificing my fifteen cents, stretching it like a dollar to pay for editors, graphic designers, and a web domain. And building that brand? Nah! It’s merely a part of the Internet game. You know, just another narcissistic attempt for attention. I give-up on opportunity, and give-in to an undemanding, complicated-free life filled with regrets and bitterness.

Chuck Schumer, the Senator from New York, says: “Giving up even an ounce of precious freedom is a very serious thing to do”. The day when I felt my writing was becoming a chore, I’d shut the whole Imani’s-journey thing for one day to listened to my heart. And you know what it told me? I was a participant of someone else’s dreams and not mine. The routine I lived for a few years were robotic: do, move, work, write or read, and go to bed; do, move, work, write or read, and go to bed; do, move, work, write or read, and go to bed, and so on. If see you how monotonous this is, imagine how I felt toward writing – a chore!

For six weeks I’ve took the initiative to peel away from Facebook walls and Twitter timelines for a spirit renewal – actually, more of a swift kick in the butt back to reality – but nevertheless my “Zen” is back and my focus has returned to Pink Noire and my writing.

So why did I choose to stay away from social media? Simple, I was beginning to have a disdain toward the repetitive and ongoing posts: Buy my book links without pitching to the potential reader as to why we should buy the book, negative posts about whatever, political post about the same ole’ NOTHING, narcissistic and never-ending photos of whomever, and the shirtless and/or bra-less attention-seekers who take selfies in bathrooms that simply forget to straighten-up. And the trolls…those misguided, transparent, does not have anything else to do, in-need of therapy, trolls. After a while, the bull**** becomes so thick, you damn-near can smell the stench through the computer screen.

Another reason I had to step away is the fact I’m a loner. I tend to create my best ideas alone. Facebook and Twitter, and other social media are considered as community websites with walls and timelines filled with people’s thoughts. So even if I have never met my friends and followers, reading their joys, their lows, highs, and their bad break-up with Pookie can be overwhelming.

Please don’t get me wrong: I love the friends I’ve made online, and some have blossomed into beautiful relationships; yet my decision to separate myself had nothing to do with individuals but the entire culture of Internet-addiction as a whole.

So, let me ask you this: When you grab your smartphone, iPad, or log onto your laptop, where do you go first? Facebook? Twitter? Attachments are a fluffy term for addictions. I’ve been through my share of food, sex, and cigarettes as an addiction, but I’ll be dern if I’m going to have a compulsive desire for waste-your-time sites.

If you’re an author or Indie artists, I know you’re saying – you’ll still need social media to promote. Well, duh! Of course I do. But it’s how you spend your time promoting and what to promote. The constant posts and tweets of the same thing get old. Heck, I’ve been guilty of it, too. So much so I’d stopped tweeting and posting at one time.

Finally, the biggest and important reason why I’d stepped away is simply to recharge my state of mind. I’m a firm believer of one controlling their thoughts and how the mind is a powerful entity of the body. Have you ever heard of the term, if you think it, you’ll become it? Meaning, if you’re influencing your mind with negative thoughts: I can’t do this, or I can’t that game, instead of comforting your mind with positive thoughts, you’re setting up for failure. And, I, for one, refuse to succumb to such foolishness.

I am mother, author, business woman, and one hellva woman but what I’m NOT is an individual that needs to docu-drama my every step to success. My path is my path. If you want to walk it with me, that’s fine but do it for encouragement, building creative ideas, and unwavering support. The world is already chaotic enough without people of whom you’ve never met, only by profile pictures, wanting to tear the very fabric of your soul – your dreams.

Let the miserable, stay miserable. It’s their weakened mind that’s keeping them from living a fulfilled life. Don’t believe me? Stay online for hours and you too, will fall into the category of the “broken and miserable”.

I’m just saying…

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