the Life and Times of Miss Madison

If you were to ask me years ago, "Do you enjoy writing?" I would say yes. Mainly because I never heard of all things I've learned over the past two years. I just wrote. The word "Storytelling" shouldn't even be associated with authors. They should be called "Story show-ers." Readers despise who tell their stories because they want to feel what the  character  is feeling. They don't want to be told  "Ed is angry." they want, "Ed's Nostril flared as he clinched his fist. I am not a story shower. I just write. Although I am  learning and practicing, I still feel inadequate for such a task. Shoing is so foreign to me that I even curse readers. But wait! Am I reader too, right? Writing as a professional is a struggle for me. I stare at the page and my mind draws a blank. Why cant people be happy with this? The story? A Second Chance at Love. I have put off Baby Blues because frankly I have no desire to finish it. The hurt  membe...

It always seems that Hanford isn't where my sister and I belong. My father planted us here because his mother grew up here and went to church here. In fact, we had went to the same church she went to until he allowed my mother to leave the church because she wasn't happy. He wanted my sister and I to attend  the same high school--it wasn't God's perfect will. My sister and I were pretty much treated as outcasts. The children made fun of us and even my own best friend made fun of us too. We just didn't fit in. We didn't have very many friends--in fact we only had one. I often wondered what life would be like if my dad granted my mother's request to put us in Christian schools. Growing up, I didn't want that, but looking back, I wish I did although it wouldn't make any difference. Finding jobs were difficult for us, especially for my sister. While I was blessed somewhat to have a few short time jobs, no one gave my sister even a chance of an interv...

I have a cat named Henry--I didn't name him, but my sister did. You see, what happened was  a dog mauled his and his brother's mother when they were very young--too young to be on their own and they they were born feral. My father took them and cared for them, but when they reached a certain age, they chose who they want. My mother, sister and I each named a kitten. It turned out that the kittens we named didn't pick us.My first cat didn't live long but he was precious to me and this Monday will mark nine years since a reckless driver ran him over--well, I'm not sure the driver was reckless, but it sure was odd for someone to drive down our residential street at 6 in he morning. Henry selected me shortly after his brother did so I owned two cats. A blessing, huh? Not really. Henry had problems--he had a weak mind and the demonic spirits that had attached themselves to my father easily swayed Henry to unacceptable behaviors. In short the first three years was a nig...

As a novice author, I still have a lot to learn, but I'm thankful for the friends and the advice of other authors and editors who had guided me on   this path called writing. When I started out, I knew nothing but hiring editors and proofreaders--well, I did, but my thinking was "not everyone needs one" I was so sure that what I wrote was flawless that I didn't even bother looking for one. My  first book which was published by a unscrupulous publishing company, had mistakes and grammar errors all through out the book. I expected the company to edit my work since I was only getting a very small percentage for royalty. Not so. I went Indie after that and my dream to have a well known publisher accept my submission and publish my book slowly dwindled away. I have found that the only way  my books ca be published if I use a platform called CreateSpace.com. Yet I still couldn't afford an editor. Being unemployed, I was lost as to what to do. I had no finances to ...

No, I don't have Alzheimer, my mother does.  Although for a long time I didn't know this. I believe the disease was there when my father was alive but the disease had lain dormant. Why? I don't know, but the disease triggered in her brain soon after his death. Just recently, my sister told me it began shortly after she stopped going to the senior nutrition center All my life, I had this picture of healthy parents. I thought God would make sure none of my parents would  ever have Cancer or Alzheimer. I thought it would never happen to us! I'm sure many people thought that, but our (My sister and my  situation sis different. If you disagree feel free to comment below) My sister and I have never had a chance to leave home. I think that  it is because I had a mindset that kept me hostage. My sister had her reasons. My father made her an underpaid housekeeper and I went off to  college,  and going to find work where ever I can only to end up back home. After...

Who is that girl who has given up on dating? All men play her and never are what they seem. Who is that girl who has finally met someone, but wasn't sure he was a Christian or not? But when she remembered he was related to a friend of hers, all doubts were moved? Then she disappeared or at least walked off to the hallway in view of others and me. She even gave her Bible away before she left, probably going after that man. Another man, an older man went to find out where she went. He came back and  told all that she was no where to be found. Please tell me who she is? Am I seeing myself? Or someone else? This my friend is not real for I woke up, feeling a little disappointed. I want to know who she is or represent.

Through out our lives, we gain friends and we lose them. We began making them at school We find someone who shares our interest, who can make us laugh and someone we confide in without the fear of  being judged. If we go to church, we make friends there or when we go to work. Just like a couple clicks, so do friends. In my own life, my very first friend was much like me: We were different but not in the same way. She was different because of her skin color. Her  father was a native American while her mother had German heritage yet was  a North American. I was different for other reasons yet this made us friends. She was the only friend I had. Through her, I learn what friend are or do and through her I also assumed that everyone should have one friend. That at least was the pattern in my own life. Many years later, I changed for the better while she grew more worldly. I am in no way a recluse although I may seem like one. I continue to have just one friend--actually I h...