Stella Book #3: The Road to Freedom ARC!

As this year prepares to come to an end, so does the Stella Trilogy. The first major update is that I am now accepting readers for an ARC, Advanced Review Copy, of Stella Book #3 as of next month. If you are interested in receiving a free electronic (unedited) version of this book in exchange for an honest review, please complete this form so you can get your copy next month. All reviewers are encouraged to publish the reviews on their blogs but you will receive a link to the books Amazon and Goodread pages a day or two before it releases in which to post your review then as well.

Here’s how it works in 3 easy steps:

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1. Click this link to go to my invitation page on VolunteerSpot: http://vols.pt/4vWcc9

2. Enter your email address: (You will NOT need to register an account on VolunteerSpot)

3. Sign up! Choose your spots – VolunteerSpot will send you an automated confirmation and reminders. Easy!

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Note: I am using VolunteerSpot to organize this Sign-up. VolunteerSpot does not share your email address with anyone. If you prefer not to use your email address please contact me and I can sign you up manually. I have also added a page to help keep you reminded that I am accepting readers for ARC’s. I will take it down when I have reached my limit for now.

Writing 101 Assignment #16: Mine Your Own Material – Speech

“Speech is basic. If you can’t control your words, you can’t control anything.” – Yecheilyah

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We’ve all been here. The orgasmic rush of an undisciplined tongue trying to figure out if it should spill the beans this morning. The aching necessity to feel our very own thoughts in our own mouths, and the satisfaction of these words sweet against the palate. It starts with the mind. A single thought gives birth to language, and a single scent of emotion strives to find its way on top our lips. Pay no heed to logic or common sense says this voice. Just the flavor of desire hanging on the edges of our hearts and waiting to fall like children from our mouths. Speech. There is no refund policy. Words cannot be taken back or traded or made invisible. Cannot be sucked like air back on top our lips, into our mouths and inside our chest. Cannot send its signal to the brain again and ask him to take them back. Speech can only be controlled. So dissect your mind and determine which thoughts are worthy to make it into the air or onto the page. Choose them like you chose your wedding dress. Carefully. Choose them like you chose your school. Wisely. Treat your words as if they are die hard criminals and you must release some of them for early parole. Which will you choose? Cradle your thoughts in your arms like an infant for words are just as fragile and vulnerable. Once spoken, like eggs once broken, they can never be repaired. The tweet I posted some time ago meant that the person, who cannot control the words of his own mouth, won’t have the strength to control anything else in his life. For his words are his. They come from his mind and from his heart. And we, why we cannot dig into his chest and choose them for him.

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Writing 101: Weekly Wrap-Up 11-15

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Assignment #11: If We Were Having Coffee Right Now
Assignment #12: Critique a Piece of Work – “We Real Cool”
Assignment #13: The Third Eye: 203- Word Story
Assignment #14: Recreate a Single Day
Assignment #15: When Music Becomes Movement

For your convenience, I have added a page to my Writing 101 Assignments to make them easier to find even after the course has ended.

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Writing 101 Assignment #15: When Music Becomes Movement

 

“Music was my refuge. I could crawl into the space between the notes and curl my back to loneliness.” – Maya Angelou

Music is powerful energy. I cannot remember growing up without holding on to some kind of tune. Lyrically swinging from one place to the next, music always moves me. When I’m music I am ocean. I am sea. I am one racing body of water. I am tucked between the words and feeling every psalm with my soul.

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I believe music can be both positive and negative. It is capable of building up and also tearing down depending on what kind of energy is associated with it. Music can move us and it can make us move. When we listen to music, it’s processed in many different areas of the brain. People have been known to either learn from music or become corrupt from music. I believe it’s because of the power that music carries. It has the capacity to put us in a different state of mind. It can be relaxing or hype, virtuous or malicious.

I enjoy music that combines both lyric and tune. Good music to me is defined by its capacity to be audibly enjoyable but also mentally stimulating in a positive way. Warm my spirit or cultivate my mind but do not just make me dance. Bring me joy or bring me meditation but bring me. Carry me. That’s it. I enjoy music that carries me into a place that grows me.

I rarely listen to modern mainstream music but some of my favorite throwbacks are:

My People Hold On – Eddie Kendricks
When You Believe – Mariah Carey, Whitney Houston
Clean Hands – Alanis Morissette
Mariah Carey – Hero
The Point of it All – Anthony Hamilton
Everything – Mary J. Blige
Love Is – Jah Cure
The Truth – India Aire
Spend My Life with You – Eric Benet
Another Again – John Legend
For You – Kenny Latimore
Love – Musiq Soulchild
Like You’ll Never See Me Again – Alicia Keys
Get It Together – India Aire
My Love is Your Love – Whitney Houston
I Love Me Some Him – Toni Braxton
Share My World – Mary J Blige

I love 90s love songs. I don’t think you have ever really been in love until you can relate to a 90s love song. If you can’t listen to Mary J and understand heart break then you just don’t know. But I’m also what people call an old soul. (My big sister always calls me old) I’ve always thought beyond my age and when it comes to music I’m the same way. The kinds of music I really enjoy are what the old folk call “The Dusties”, the Marvin Gaye, the Luther Vandross, or The Temptations if you will. I love too the sound of the blues and jazz. If there is any one song that would define me right now it wouldn’t be anything on my list; it would probably come from something from way back in the day.

Writing 101 Assignment #14: Recreate a Single Day

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Age: 10

I lay on the concrete and it felt like nothing underneath my skin. Not like a bed of rocks or warm gravel. It just felt like nothing and I didn’t want anyone to touch me. Now, if only I could get the message across to someone. Anyone. Guess I should go ahead and harness those telepathic powers. “Please don’t move me, please don’t move me, please don’t move me.” Now, I’ll just lie here and keep repeating myself. That’s it everyone, walk around. Nothing to see here. I was caught in conversation with my own thoughts that summer afternoon when someone scooped me into their arms and then suddenly I couldn’t breathe.

Hours Earlier
June, 1997 – Afternoon

The bell roared its final lyric from  the interior of Scott Joplin Elementary School and finally released us. “Thanks Auntie Roslyn!”

A whole dollar. It’s official; I am on to bigger and better things now. Turns out it really does pay to get good grades. Moving on up out the fourth grade. Time to bring all the toys outside to celebrate.

As night dawned and the street lights came on, Mama yelled that it was time for my sister and I to come home.  It was a beautiful day out and the ice cream truck took advantage as it sung down the street. I decided it was time to spend.

“But mama said to come in the house,” whined my twin sister.

“Just hold my toys till I come back”, I said annoyed. Why she can’t just go with the flow?

I wasn’t interested in Twin’s backtalk, just ice cream. Did she not see that I had just been a devil for Halloween? She better get it together. I mean sure, the pitchfork is made of plastic with a cute light bulb, but I know how to use it.

The ice cream truck sang its way down the street with its “Pop goes the weasel hymn”. And being as careful as I could with anxious feet I embarked on my journey. “Yea, this will only take a minute. Life is about taking risks little sister. I’ll be back before you know it.”

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So here I am, floating in the air and unable to breathe.

“Told yall not to move me. Grown-ups. They never listen.” I didn’t hear screams. I didn’t feel the impact. I don’t remember anything outside of rolling from the hood of the car and being picked up from the ground and put in the grass again. “There, that’s better. I can breathe now.”

There is no pain as I lay here surrounded by the neighborhood. I don’t know what everyone’s looking at. I scanned my surroundings in awe of the large crowd and realized my left hand was being squeezed by some woman. Her tears soaked her face and she pleaded her apologies over and over again. “Oh, so your the one who hit me. No worries, I forgive you. It’s really not all that bad. Not like I feel anything. Plus, you do know it’s really not your fault right? Yup, its mine. Just don’t tell Twin. You keep secrets right? You keep mine and I’ll keep yours. Oh come on, will you stop the crying already? It’s really not that bad. I don’t feel anything. Oh that’s right, you can’t hear me. No one can. I’m liking these powers. Nice. Next time mom says—

“She shouldn’t have been running across the street,” said a familiar voice in the crowd.

It was cousin Rachel. There, take a scowl. You better be careful lady. Who knows what I can do with my new super powers.

An Hour Later – The Hospital

So I’m sad to tell you that my super powers wore off. I still can’t speak but I’m starting to feel pain. According to the voices around me I’d broken my leg, or more precisely, my femur bone, the longest bone in your body, located in the thigh area. So now I’m staring at the ceiling waiting for the doctors to come back. Mom is on the other side of me and my entire right leg is wrapped in some kind of casing that feels like its getting heavier and heavier. “Oh boy, this is it. I’m dying. I’m officially dying.” My voice opened up and I started to cry. “What’s taking them so long? This is unbearable! What is this thing on my leg?! It’s so heavy. It has to be a cast. They must know my super powers are gone. Who would be so cruel as to wrap my broken leg in a cast! It feels like a big fat man was sitting on my leg. I know he’s around here somewhere, I just can’t see him. I don’t think I’ll have a leg left. It’s sinking deeper and deeper into the bed and the mattress is starting to fold over.

So the “doctors” finally came back and wheeled me into surgery. I wonder about the evil doctor who commanded his men to try and make my leg disappear. I’m sure he wanted to do away with me and I was being taken to a secret laboratory in which this would happen. Wait, he’s trying to give me something. It’s poison. I knew it! Wait, what’s happening? No, don’t put that in my ….”

Recovery

What a day. First I get attacked by the white car. Then I get kidnapped and drugged by men pretending to be doctors and now I’m sitting up in a hospital bed. Let me check to see if all of my body parts are here. Head. Check. Arms. Check. Face in tack. Check. Good, I can wiggle my toes. Check. Left leg is fine. Right—

“Ahhh!”

I started to cry again. Someone had stapled me back together. I instantly thought of my fourth grade teacher who stapled his thumb on occasion to let us know he was crazy enough not to mess with. “Was he in on this? I wouldn’t doubt it.” I wondered what kind of technology they were using. I’d better be careful not to touch the staples. It may activate some special gadget and suck me deep into the floor. Maybe I’ll just count them. One….two…three…ten…eighteen…twenty-four! Oh my, this must really be serious. I’m sure there’s a tracking device in there somewhere. And what did they do with my real leg?

I thought about telling mama about these evil men but I didn’t want to blow my cover. If she was protecting me they couldn’t know about it. I’m kind of tired now so we’ll have to talk about escape routes in the morning. Guess I’ll get some sleep since mom’s up. She can watch the door.

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