This picture was taken on November 26, 2008.
This picture was taken on November 26, 2008.
God please forgive me if I was too harsh. I still feel bad about what happened last week.
So there I was…all inspired and ready to write. I IM’ed Tamara to tell her that I was about to work non stop on my next mini eBook. As soon as I did that, my phone rang and it was a woman from one of my classes. She sounded all frantic and told me that her book was about to go to the printer and she found a lot of mistakes in it and asked if I could come read it and help her to upload the pictures for it.
I knew this meant a lot to her so I dropped my project and rushed over there to help her.
“Do you want me to just give it a quick read through for mistakes or do you want me to comb through it to fix any content issues?” I asked her.
“Umm..comb through it and if you see anything let me know.”
I started reading and I almost fell out of the chair. This chick’s book was….Lord, you know I don’t like to say anything unless it’s praise but, let’s just say the only thing I could praise was the fact that this woman’s story was AMAZING. An excellent story but…she’s not a good writer at all.
There’s a difference between being a writer and understanding the mechanics of writing. There are rules to follow like: when you’re introducing a character, on first reference you explain in detail who the character is and on second reference you can use their nickname but you can’t switch nicknames before you explain who you’re talking about.
When you’re writing you have to engage the reader by using language that is descriptive and has a flair. It’s good to begin a story by having your main character explain a story to a friend of hers, but you should do it in first person so that the READER feels as though they are the friend you are talking to.
Before I knew it I was re writing this chick’s book. Two hours later I was only on page 8 and I stopped myself in mid stroke. I called my sister to explain the situation.
“Um, this chick can’t really write and I want to help her but I can’t sit up here and edit this book for free,”
“But what am I supposed to tell her? I feel so bad. She’s trying to send this to the printing press. There’s no way she’s gonna make money with this book. She can’t even write in complete sentences.” Even THINKING those critical thoughts made me feel like a bad person.
“Tell her you don’t have time,” my sister suggested.
“But then she’ll publish it and it won’t be good…” I whined.
“That’s her problem.”
I called the chick into the room and I explained that this book wasn’t ready to go to print.
“Why not?” she asked me.
I gulped. “Um…Honey…You don’t seem to know how to write in complete sentences.”
“Um..yeah I know that. I saw all of these books in Black Expressions and they write like that.”
“Yeah but that’s dialogue. That was a novel. This isn’t a novel. This is a self help book that is semi autobiographical. You seem to write how you speak and didn’t you tell me that you have problems on your job because of how you speak?”
“Yeah, I do,” she said and sat down on the bed.
“This isn’t going to work,” I told her softly. “Maybe it’s me because I went to school for writing and…This just isn’t going to work.”
“So you’re saying there’s no way I can publish this?” she asked.
“Not if you actually want to make money.”
“But writing is my passion. Writing is my life!”
I looked away. “Yeah but…”
“This is what I’ve been wanting to do forever!”
“Yeah but…if you print this and show it to people, it will be an embarrassment to you. You wouldn’t want to show your kids this book and have them think this is how they are supposed to speak or write. This isn’t a good example of proper English.”
“But I want to write the way I write,” she explained. “I want to have my own unique style.”
“Of course you do,” I explained. “But if you don’t know the rules, you can’t break the rules. You have to learn proper sentence structure first. Are you interested in anything else? Is there something else you can do to make money for your family? I don’t think you’re a writer.”
She grabbed a copy of her original manuscript and she read a paragraph and then she asked me to read my revision. She seemed dumbfounded by my writing and I shrugged and told her that I write for a living and I READ even more than I write. I know what it takes to be a best selling author because I study their lives, literary influences and their writing… and the basic writing style is just the beginning.
I left her house feeling like shit. I didn’t want to crush this girl’s dreams. I didn’t want to have to tell her that but if she puts her name on it and shows it to people, they will wonder how the hell she got through high school.
I feel so bad..even now.
I brainstormed with several of my friends about how I could help her. We tried to come up with different marketing techniques and so forth. I couldn’t wrap my mind around how to come up with an excuse for bad writing. My only option was to co write the book with her but I can’t do that unless she’s willing to give me some of the profit.
I called her a couple of days later to check on her and she said I really hurt her feelings. She said she was depressed after our conversation. I don’t want to make anyone depressed. I dropped my project to help her when she called because I like helping people to accomplish their dreams.
I still feel like shit. I wish she had never called me to help. But then again…that’s like my friend asking me how I think she looks in a particular dress and me lieing to her- I don’t do that. I want to be able to brag about my friends and be sincere.
I hope she takes my advice and gets someone to edit it. I feel so bad. So bad….
Wow. Since I’m a future Relationship Therapist on a daily basis I get so many calls, IM’s and emails from people who need advice. Still don’t understand how I can easily help someone with their relationship when I haven’t been in a romantic relationship in almost 7 years. Wait…I do know how I do it. I just give them the same advice I would give them if they were talking about their friend. If you think of your boy or girlfriend as a friend, a whole lot of drama and unnecessary expectations would be cut out.
Anyway…I haven’t had an issue of my own to sort out in a while but here goes…
When my sons told me that my BBDD’s bitch was pregnant my immediate reaction was surprise, followed by elation, then sadness, then jealousy then elation again. In no way do I ever want to be with him again (No more attorney’s for me. I promise). I really didn’t think about it too much after that because I feel like he is with the EXACT type of woman he deserves to be with. They match perfectly. He and I were a good match at the time but I’ve grown and we’re too different to be together now.
Sooo…I thought it didn’t affect me but then again…
I’ve been having these crazy ass dreams since I found out about their pregnancy. In each one of these dreams I am whooping her ass. I mean WWF type of ass whoopings. I enjoy each punch, kick and body slam too. I wake up feeling confused because I don’t hate her-I just don’t like her. I have nothing against her or him for the record even though I have a valid reason to hate them both.
In my concious mind I’m okay with them but I guess subconciously I still have issues. I don’t like that. I don’t like to be in bondage, even in my dreams.
But I probably couldn’t do it like the chicks in the ATL did it.
While watching the show it helped me to better visualize the type of lifestyle that I say I want to live. I’m sure I’ll get there one day, but now I see a bit of a problem…
Come to think of it, I wouldn’t even be able to appreciate the things those high rolling ladies do. Yes, I would LOVE a grand mansion with a house staff to take care of it, personal shoppers and assistants and all of that jazz but…when DeShawn got her birthday present from her husband and it was inside a big box with a crown on it, I immediately thought, “He gave her a bottle of Crown Royal for her birthday?”
Which fork do I use at dinner? Is it wrong to discuss politics and religion over tea? Can I wear jeans and a t-shirt to a charity event? Will he expect me to put on an evening gown and heels and give cheek kisses to a room full of strangers? Am I supposed to know who the A-list people of the city are? Better yet, am I supposed to care? ~sigh~
I care more about contributing to academia and the literary world. I care more about raising good boys who believe the world is their oyster. I care about being loved, truly and completely by my family and a wonderful man who is creative and adores me. I care about having good times with my friends and being able to invest in their dreams with my talent and resources.
I’ll probably have triple the resources those chicks on The Real Housewives of Atlanta have but I’ll invest it in my sons and my friends without the drama, backbiting and idle time to create careers out of boredom.
I’ve been posting on almost all of my blogs tonite. The sun is coming up and I’m still not tired. My son says I’m nocturnal. I guess…I just had a lot on my mind.
I just checked my subscriptions for both my e-zine blog Embrace Your Fantasy and this blog and I’ve noticed that some of the oldest subscribers for this blog have kindly opted out. I can understand that. Those who have been reading my blog, if there are any of them left, since I began in 2003 have noticed a radical change in my belief system and lifestyle.
Ofcourse I had to change…who stays exactly the same over the course of five years? But my changes were significant because back then I was deeply religious and dependent on my friends, religion and my pastor for approval of my life choices. I now depend on neither and I am quite happy with who I am..but..I guess people can’t take the change. I don’t mind.
Have you ever noticed that I don’t do what most other bloggers do to market their blogs? I don’t comment on blogs to increase my readership. I don’t join in on internet social circles to stay in the popular group of bloggers. I don’t really care.
I do care about using this blog as a catalogue of my growth…It is and will remain to be a tool for me to vent and try to figure out my issues, express gratitude for my life and record the good and bad moments. I figure one day I can use this blog to write a book about my journey. Who knows what will happen but for right now…I believe those who will connect with my message and my life story will find me somehow. Those who won’t…I bless and send them on their way to find someone whose life more closely resembles theirs. Who knows where I’ll be in five more years but hopefully, you’ll come with me.
If you have connected with my blog in secret and have never reached out to me personally, I encourage you to do so. Just like I am open with my friends in giving encouragement and inspiration and counseling, I am open to you. Feel free to send me an email to say hello.
Thank you for reading.
So I went to work on Wednesday night and worked an extra shift. The money I made that night allowed me to be able to buy 2 new (to me) tires! I went to this place my sister suggested and I had to read the men there in order to devise my strategy. Every woman knows that when they try to take care of mechanical work with their car, the men will try to take advantage of you if you go alone.
I am so upset right now that I can bately type. No, its not the two long island iced teas aI had at the club it the fact that…I can’t seem to shake this obsession woth Kanye Wet. I need to just hurry yp and meet him and fuck him and find out that he’s critical or mean or dumb or just plain boring and then I can move on.
Until then I’m stuck with him as the standard of brilliance in my mind and I hate it. I’m up in the club, tipsy as hell dancin wih some random dude and then the DJ HAS to play one of his songs hjust as I’m starting feel some attraction. That always breaks the attraction because I wake up and I’m like, “This ain’t Kanye. This dude ain’t brilliant, creative and inspirational. This dude probably has a JOB and no goals and wants to live in the inner city for the rest of his life.”
I am so upset that I set the bar so high with my imaginary crush on Kanye but it is what it is. Until I meet someone who impresses me more than he does, I’m stuck. So tuck. I hate this. I cna’t get laid for shit cuz none of these dudes impress me like he does.
Fuck. It’s just…Kanye’s resume and spirit is…it’s what I feel like I deserve. Nothing less. Anything less would feel like setllling. SHit..I’m tired. Need to masterbate and go to sleep.
Everybody’s in fucking love these days.
Last night and then this morning all I’m hearing when I answer the phone is…
“Oh my gosh. Tee. I love him so much! He treats me so good. Tee. Seriously, I’ve never been in anything like this before. It’s like..when I look at him and he looks at me and I just know he thinks the world of me and we just hold each other and it’s so wonderful. I love him so much…”
WHat the hell ever!
I feel like I’m torturing myself because I LOVE hearing stories like this but at the same time they make me dizzy.
What’s wrong with me? Why can’t I like anyone? I don’t understand. When I look at guys I’m like, ewww….
So I think, maybe I’m a lesbian..but then no woman impresses me either. So then I don’t get it.
I don’t get it.
The people that I speak to on a daily basis, my sister Teenie, Tamara, Kim & Ruby are ALL in fucking love right now…
I have to hear about that shit everyday…
I want to be jealous but I can’t be because they’re my friends and I am so glad they’re happy. It’s just…I don’t understand…
I don’t understand…