Introduce Yourself – Introducing Guest Author Hope Destiny

Its that time of the week again!  Welcome to another edition of Introduce Yourself, a new and exciting blog segment of The PBS Blog dedicated to introducing to you new and established authors and their books.

Today I’d like to extend a warm welcome to Hope Destiny. Welcome to The PBS Blog! Let’s get started.

What is your name and where are you from?

My name is Latisha. I write under Tisha as well as the pseudonym Hope Destiny. I live in Orlando, Florida.

The Sunshine state! I love it. Your pseudonym is beautiful. What made you decide on this name in particular?

I was airing out my dirty laundry to the world about what I did when I was younger that I shouldn’t have been doing as well as the violations I endured and my feelings about my parents, and I just didn’t want any family members to know it was me or read it so as I was writing it the name just came to me, and I questioned it at first and tried to change it, but God already had planted that seed so it was no way around it or giving it up.

Photo: Latisha “Hope Destiny”. Used with permission.

Hmmm. OK. Tell me, what would your perfect writing / reading room look like?

Quiet. No sound.

I feel you. I enjoy silence myself. I understand you are employed outside of writing? Tell us about your job.

I am a Controller at a telecommunications company.

Cool. What’s your favorite color?

Baby blue.

If you could shadow your favorite artist, who would it be?

Eminem.

OK OK, I see you. Cleaning out my closet was my jam back in the day, Lol. Seems like a lifetime ago. Speaking of music, what kind of music do you like?

Slow throwback R&B.

Yaass! Me too. You’ll love PBS Throwback Thursdays. When did you publish your first book? What was that like?

May 2014. It was exhilarating.

You Don’t Know My Story: I Don’t Look Like What I Been Through was published in May 2014. (You Still Don’t Know My Story, and Let Me Finish Telling You My Story was published after that and each about 6 months apart). Part One chronicles my life from a child to the age of 18 years old with the subsequent books from the age of 18 and up. It was heartbreaking to write. I cried a lot. It was hard to recall memories that I had locked up in the attic of my memory to forget them and to move on then I realized how that only caused the anger that shrouded my heart which in turn lead to failed relationships and failed marriages. I had a wall up. I didn’t love anyone. Not even my own children so it was sad. I gave them things in place of love sort of like I was given growing up. It was an endless vicious cycle that needed to be broken and I wanted…no needed to break it.

AVAILABLE NOW ON AMAZON.

Sounds like a gripping read. I like that cover too.  I’m gonna have to check you out as soon as I find the time to read all these books! Hope, how long have you been married?

Almost one year.

Awwue! Go ahead Newlywed. Alright now fellas, you heard it here first, Hope is married. Lol. Children?

Yes. One girl and two boys.

Total preciousness. What takes up too much of your time?

Life obstacles.

Can you explain that?

There is always something that keeps you from doing things that you want to do. I would love to write every day all day but I can’t. I have a job. No. I have a career. While my imagination runs wild with stories and ideas all day, I crunch numbers as it does. I am the main breadwinner in my entire family. So many responsibilities. My parents. My children. Nieces and nephews and etc always needing things and I have to be the one to give it. Granted…everyone (my siblings mainly) had the same opportunities that I had but no one wanted the responsibility of doing what it took to get it. I am the responsible one. Everyone depend on me so I can’t live in my fantasy writer world that calls me. I have to live in the now so what really takes up a lot of my time? The need and want to put others before my own needs and wants. Other people problems take up a lot of my time.

Yea, I can imagine that’s a huge responsibility and some serious stress. Praying for your strength. Speaking of life, what do you think of the world we live in?

Its hectic.

Hope has a lot of reads for you to explore! Visit her Author Amazon Page HERE

What’s the most difficult thing about being a writer? The most exciting thing?

The time to write. Finishing it.

As noted above….time is what I have so little of with a demanding career and family as I have so that is just it…so much to do…so little time….that is my mantra.

Once I do finish a novel, it is euphoric. I have completed a task (a most difficult one) that I had set out to do. It is always exciting to complete a difficult task with very little time.

Indeed. And speaking of finishing, why is writing important to you?

It gets me out of my head.

GET THIS BOOK NOW ON AMAZON

What does that mean?

I am always thinking about stories all day, everyday and scenes and such or an idea pops in my head and I always wrote poetry as a child to deal with a lot of anger and hurt of growing up with parents that were there but not there so writing became an outlet as it has now.

Thru all the hurt and pain I endured from a child and on, I learned that writing takes me places and gives me that release I yearn for. A release from pain and misery and I can make it continue or end.. in a story. In a story, it is a life I really control. The characters life is in my hands and they don’t have to be miserable like I was. It is wonderful.

Thank you for spending this time with us. I am sure you’ve given many new authors some Hope today!


Latisha “Hope Destiny”. Used with permission.

Blog website https://penpointpub.wordpress.com/

Instagram handle authorhopedestiny

Twitter handle athrhopedestiny

Facebook  https://www.facebook.com/AuthorHopeDestiny

Facebook page https://www.facebook.com/authorhopedestinywrites/

 
To stay up to date on new releases and giveaways from Hope, text PENPOINT to 22828 and stay tuned for my next awesome author.

Are you a new author? Looking for more exposure? Learn more about my Introduce Yourself Feature HERE.

Hope Like Water

I must admit

I don’t know much about you

The first ocean in which I’ve ever swam

You were there in my mother’s womb

And every other home in which I’ve ever lived

I drink you

And you consume me

I cook with you

From pieces of your soul

I feed my children

And we bathe in your arms

Watching as you carry us

Water

Invisible

Yet nurturing

I know not what you are

Not exactly

I think you’re spiritual

Because you left your DNA in my skin

Your truth dripping as it clung onto my bones

Like breath of life escaping my lips

A misty cloud

A forehead kiss

Or a mother’s smile

And the world is yours to conquer

When she winks her eye

And you know you got this

You’re there to fulfill all our needs

A spiritual fluid

That man has not fully understood

Like heaven right here on Earth

Miracles

In the desert

If I could bottle hope

I imagine it’ll look something like you

If I could taste on my lips expectation

I imagine paradise would taste

Something like you

If truth could be wrapped up in one word

If hope could manifest itself

So we know what it looks like

I’d sum it up using one word

The only word with the power to both nourish

and destroy

To hurricane wrath

And to quench thirst

If I could touch the substance

of this expectation

I imagine it is hope

Like

Water.

Your Playing Small Does Not Serve The World

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“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frighten us. We ask ourselves, ‘Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous?’ Actually, who are you not to be? Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won’t feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”
Marianne Williamson

Wait for Me

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Would you let me ribbon tie my waiting into your lap?
Take me dripping in mistakes like I got flaws for fragrance
Can you wait for me to get it right?
This belly
filled to the brim with passion
like I got fire clenched in my fists and a furnace in my throat
As if you’d just emerged from the safety of your mother’s womb
would you wait for me
to breathe life into your lungs
to breathe logic into your conscience?
Let kindness touch you gentle,
soft like pillow talk
or whispering prayers in a bowl of incense
Touch me endurance
and I’ll dip my hands into purpose
and feed you hope through a straw
So let the storms begin
let the winds blow
and the nations rage
let the heavens chop off pieces of ice for our tribulation
let hailstones come bungee jumping from the sky to put dents in our joy
and I promise you
if you wait for me
I’ll command my words to stitch you a smile
and in time
we will simmer tragedy
into the polished pillars
of diamonds in the ruff.

Wait for me.

Holding onto Hope – Owning Your Blog / Writing

Holding onto Hope, blogging, writing

I decided to take a much-needed break from revising my manuscript and sat down to watch a couple episodes of Fringe (now my new favorite TV show. Yes, I know, it came out years ago but I’m new to this). After retiring to my bed and scrolling through Pinterest I was forced to deal with the thought that has been lingering in the back of my mind. The thought was doubt and as I struggled to ignore it, I knew eventually I’d have to face this beast, stop being lazy, and rid it from my consciousness.

As I sit here, typing this, I know I would reread it gazillion times before drafting it in WordPress. I will then preview it a billion more times when it’s drafted in WordPress and I’ll be sure to choose the Justified button for my paragraphs so they look nice and neat. If it’s anything like my usual posting, it’ll be revised in the draft five to six times before I actually push publish and even then I’ll go back to reread it as if I’m not the person who wrote it. I’ll read it on my laptop and then again on my mobile just to make sure it’s formatted correctly. I’ll probably then proceed to share it on social media and go look at it. You know, just to see if it looks right.

If this sounds a bit OCD, then diagnose me now because it’s not an embellishment. Yet despite how hard I strive to ensure the proper crafting and delivering of content online, I sit here and find myself the victim of “what if?” The truth is that I am on the brink of stepping outside of that comfort zone and I’m starting to wonder if I’m good enough. Will the confidence I know I need as a writer be mistaken for arrogance?

Can I be trusted with the responsibility of giving advice or do my readers scan my posts and think that I’m a fool? Yes, I know these thoughts aren’t true and yet, I found myself embracing the possibility that maybe I look silly writing about things that others are so much more knowledgeable of. I sit here and I publish a post with the passion and the authority necessary to own it and yet, I cannot help but wonder.

But then I got a wake-up call. One from Emily Dickerson and one from Verily Mary.

‘Hope’ is the thing with feathers—
That perches in the soul—
And sings the tune without the words—
And never stops—at all—

I realized as I read these words, that if I am to accomplish anything of significance at all, then I must buckle down, rooting myself in hope, the songbird of my soul. As one of my sister’s so eloquently put it, “Hope is your anchor. Stay tied down in your faith.”

Additionally, this was solidified by a post I ran across prior to writing this post. As I stated, I was scrolling through Pinterest and discovered the blog of Verily Mary. Specifically, her post on:

Truths Every Self-Expressive Writer with a Blog Needs to Hear

…brought me back. I’ve always published posts on this blog with a certain level of ownership and I realized after reading Mary’s post that it’s not about being puffed up and proud (which I make a consistent effort to stay away from at all cost), but only that writers must own their writing with that same level of authority and devout seriousness or we won’t make it.

Tonight I was reminded that if you know you put your all into something (not just your C work, but your genuine all), then there is no need to feel shame. Mary’s words, like my sister’s, spoke life and I offer them to you with the hope that they’ll inspire you the same as they inspired me. Hold onto Hope and never give up:

“I say all of this to say be gentle with yourself when you write online. Aim for excellence while understanding that you are a different beast altogether when it comes folks like you writing in the blogging world. Your writing may be just as meditative and self-reflective as it is logical and analytical. And just because your type of brand or niche is not as saturated or mainstream does not make it less valid. Keep playing your heartstrings and continue to let their songs spill over on your blogs. Whether 10 people or 1000 people hear them, they still make a sound. And in the end, that is what truly matters.” – Mary, Writer, Blogger

Dear Poetry

Dear Poetry

I wish I can take your words
and carve them into the sky
as if you alone was the cement at the fingertips
of the Almighty
wish I can
breathe life into your nostrils like I held onto the strings
stapled to the backs of the wind
Dear poetry,
I wish I can copyright your metaphors,
& trademark your similes
Wish I could draw you away from every mouth
whose saliva has not promised to cherish your wisdom
like stomachs rejecting old food
You see I wish that your nutrition could be savored
only in the mouths of those who speak truth
I’m tired
tired of seeing Allegory’s
washed down the drain of unconscious minds who
seek only to dream fairy tales
bathed in rhetoric
to wake up wet with euphoric ignorance
I appeal to the relentless generosity of poetry
to drawback its compassion if it dares
and stop playing the violin on our hearts
like disobedient children that tap dances on their mother’s last nerve
cause
Poetry can change nothing if truth
can’t hit the concrete with a curve
I wish
Wish I could ensure that you are used only when truth spreads its wings like butterflies
nervously flapping inside the jaws of understanding
Like truth when it opens its legs to laws and commandments
and gives birth to obedience
In whose laughter resounds like the deadness of Sara’s womb
I wish
that deception can be buried inside the heavens
like the stars at noontime
that do not wish to be available
only so that our eyes may see something deep.