#SampleSunday: who's that girl?

This sample is copyrighted, unedited, and subject to my fickle mind making changes prior to publication...

xoxo,

Nicole

******

“So what’s her name, son?” my father asked, seemingly out of nowhere.

“Whose name, Pops?”

“The one that’s got you running outta here barely after you finish the last bite of ya meal every week? Don’t give me that bullshit excuse you’re giving your mother, either.”

Everett laughed, looking at me.

“Pops, I really did get put in charge of a new project at work,” I said, not answering the question.

“I don’t doubt you did, Ellis. But I know my son. You’re too anxious when you’re tryna get up outta here. You don’t have that crazy ass expression that you normally do when the job got you hemmed up. So it’s gotta be a lil filly.”

I remained silent, neither confirming nor denying. Everett continued laughing.

“What’s so funny, Ev? You met her yet? Why isn’t he bringing her ‘round here to meet ya mama and me yet? She got a cockeye? One leg shorter than the other? Hump in the back?”

“N-n-nah Pops. I don’t know n-nothing about any girl. I think it really is some w-work shit,” Everett said, unconvincingly.

“And you’re obviously lying, Porky.”

I laughed loudly at that. Pops hadn’t called him that in at least twenty years. Everett was less than amused, however. Growing up, Ev was a lil portly through his preteen years. Combine that with his penchant for stuttering when he wasn’t telling the truth and the nickname was born. That goddamn stammer had given me away though.  We sat in silence until Pops broke the stalemate.

“Fine. I’ll leave it for now. But I’m warning you; your flimsy work excuse won’t last much longer. You know how Miranda is. She’s about to start parading eligible bachelorettes in front of you at these dinners. So whatever you got going on with your love life, you better get it together fast.”

“You gotta hold her off, Pops.”

“Now you know good and damn well I can’t stop that woman when she’s on a roll.”

“Dad. For real. I need you to run interference for me. I’m not confirming or denying anything, but I will say that I don’t need Miranda Taylor finding me a woman. Not right now. Not in the future.”

My dad paused a beat, looking at me curiously for a few minutes.

“Okay.”

“Okay? That’s it?”

“Yep,” he replied, taking a sip of his beer and turning his attention back to the game.

#SampleSunday: the oath.

So I've been watching this whole indie writer game for a minute and am always hyped for Sample Sunday from my faves. Today I decided, on a whim (& after three delicious watermelon lime beers), to participate. So here's my ~first~ #samplesunday post. Is this where I say that this sample is copyrighted, unedited and subject to my fickle mind making changes prior to publication? : ) Hope y'all enjoy!

*****

“So what were the other rules?” Ellis’ low rumble pulled me out of the orgasm induced hazed I’d been in. After finishing up in the living room, we moved into my bedroom where we devoured each other at least three more times as if each time would be the last. I was dozing off when Ellis asked the question I had no definite answer to. The only real rule I had regarding the rollout of this relationship was how it would eventually be revealed to the family. The last thing I needed was Imogene Landon-Lee calling me and going on about how good girls don’t hop from brother to brother. Or how I should have never gave Everett to that damn ginger girl for the millionth time.

“Well…er…um…” I stalled.

“Wait a damn minute. There ain’t no rules beyond don’t tell my mama are there? Auntie Im got you that shook?” Ellis laughed.

“It’s not just my mama I’m worried about…”

“Well who else? Certainly not Everett.”

“Hell no. That fool prolly already knows because Cass can’t hold water.”

“I thought you said…”

“I said nothing; you assumed,” I laughed.

“So who else? Certainly not my mama.”

I remained quiet, playing with the scalloped lace edges of my sheets. That’s exactly who had me shook. Don’t get me wrong, I definitely didn’t want the judgment or censure from my mother, but I could just ignore her ass for a few days and she’d be past it. But Auntie Randi…I couldn’t be the lil heffa who messed around with both of her sons. I’d always been closer to her than Cadence’s mom Auntie Berta because of our shared love of dance. Auntie Randi was the one who encouraged my mom to put me into Hurston Dance Company after seeing me messing around with choreography on my own around the house. When Everett and I broke up, Auntie Randi had nothing bad to say, but I always felt like she was a bit disappointed that I wouldn’t become her daughter-in-law, popping out little dance grandbabies. Don’t get me wrong, she loved Cassidy, but they were about as opposite as two folks could get. Thank goodness The Bean inherited her grandma’s dance genes.

“For real, Bee? Quit playin’, you know Miranda loves her some Devorah.”

“Yeah, but will she love the Devorah that’s fucked both of her sons?”

“Bee, just the tip doesn’t count.”

“It totally doe---WAIT! You know about that? Oh my gooooooood,” I moaned, burying my face in my hands and turning away from Ellis.

Everett and I swore we wouldn’t tell anyone about our failed sexcapades. I mean I’d told Cade, obviously, but he had to know that was a given. There was rarely anything that I didn’t tell her. But that didn’t mean he could tell his brother. Ellis grabbed my shoulder and pulled me into an embrace, kissing my forehead as he chuckled.

“Baby, that was over ten years ago. Besides…I won anyway! You let me get all up in them…”

“Stop. Ew. Do not finish that sentence or you will never get all up in me ever again.”

“Yeah right,” Ellis drawled, running his hand down my body to cup my ass.

“Stop tryna distract me. I’m serious though. Please let’s just chill on letting the old heads know about whatever this thing is.”

“This thing being our relationship. Say it with me Bee. Our rela…actually, scratch that. I’m about to make you take an oath. Repeat after me. I, Devorah Nicole Lee…”

I rolled my eyes, pushing against Ellis slightly to loosen his embrace. He pulled me in even closer, locking a leg around mine to keep me in place. I looked up to see him waiting with one eyebrow cocked.

“All right, fine. I, Devorah Nicole Lee…”

“Do solemnly swear…”

“Do solemnly swear…”

“That I am in a relationship with Ellis Stacey Taylor…”

“That I am in…” I paused.

Ellis just looked at me, with a brow raised.

I smirked, “All right, all right, I’ll quit fucking with you. That I am in a relationship with Ellis Stacey Taylor…”

My heart damn near burst outta my chest after saying that line. Lord, it was something I never thought in life I’d be saying, let alone repeating in some crazy ass oath Ellis had me taking. Pretty sure that I was grinning like a loon at this point as well.

“Who is knocking the bottom out that thang.”

“I’m not repeating that.”

Outloud that is, because he was certainly knocking out the top, bottom, middle and sides of that thang. Whew.

“You know it’s true. I know it’s true. It’s fine. You don’t have to say it.”

“I can’t stand you.”

“Lies you tell, woman!”

So close.

I set a very aggressive writing goal for myself this weekend. I began it with three chapters left in my outline and I wanted to be completely done with them by Monday. I want to be typing the words ~the end~ very fucking soon. So I'm fully immersed in writing, forsaking nearly everything else in my life so that I may reach this goal.

...and I'm scared shitless. 

I've been writing and thinking about and researching this simple little book for so long and I can hardly believe it's almost out into the world. My anxiety is through the roof. I just want people to like it. I think I'm finally super close to the place where *I* like it, finally and I'm a harsh critic.

I always feel like I know what I want to write, but sometimes the synapses don't fire off what is seen in my mind's eye to the fingers to type it just right. So this journey has been full of hand wringing and frustration at not being able to get what I think are the right words on the page. Then I have to realize that the story will come out of me in the way that the characters move me to tell it. As much as I think I'm in control, I'm not. These fictional figments of my imagination are running the show and I'm at their beck and call. 

But once I type those final two words I'll have finally done it. I will have completed an entire book.

Holy shit, I wanna vomit.

xoxo,

Nicole

[Reading] is easy, young [woman]; [writing] is harder...

If you couldn't tell from the bastardization of a lyric from the post title here, I am low-key obsessed with Hamilton the musical and think Lin-Manuel Miranda is definitely a friggin' genius. I'd  not listened to the soundtrack since I saw the play in April (least humble brag, ever...), but for some reason it was on my heart heavy today. So I cranked it while at the day job and got my entire life. While I've listened to this cast recording 5012 times, today when Chris Jackson sang the original line I pilfered for this post's title (dying is easy young man, living is harder) I immediately connected it to my creative process.

I tend to take the easy way out ten times out of nine. I don't need that stinkin' easy button from Staples because I am perfectly capable of finding shortcuts, loopholes, and other means of skating by in order to achieve a goal successfully on my own. Writing a book however? You can't really do that. Well you could, but then your book would suck. And what's the use in putting out a crappy product for consumption when you're a nobody so it's not like it's easy money...what was I saying? I'm easily distracted.

Oh yes, I was saying...

These people. Bro. Bruh. Breh. Sis. Cis. They have taken me THROUGH it. When I initially talked to my friend Christina about this story it was supposed to be a short, maybe 10k words and it did not resemble anything of its incarnation today besides a couple of shared character names. It has evolved into this...thing that, according to some people, is kinda interesting and compelling. But making it so? It is the single most nerve-wracking thing I've made myself do in quite some time. My anxiety has anxiety about this damn book being released unto the world.

But it is a thing that must be done, so I am coping.

Barely...please send rosé gummies and/or champagne to help ya girl.

xoxo,

Nicole

What's in a name?

So I've been asked by several people why I'm choosing to write under a pseudonym, so what better way to introduce myself to the world than to give a little background on how I came up with my writer name. : )

• The first reason I'm choosing not to write under my government name isn't any cloak and daggery type jazz, it's simply because I hate my real first name. I've never felt it fit me and it's wack; so whenever I get a chance to avoid using it, I take advantage of it.

• Another reason is because I work in a field that may lead to me being published in academia at some point. Not that this first book is filled with smut, buuuuuut I'ma keep it a hunnid and say who knows what the future holds. It could get real in the field. So because of that, separation of church and state was necessary.

• And 17th of all, I wanted to pay homage to the women who always encouraged me to pursue my writer dream. They were descendants of the Falls line of my family tree, so using that as my last name was a no brainer.

That's it, that's all--for now. Next time I'm gonna write about my process and how I dragged this book to the trash daily the entire time I've been writing it, haha!

xoxo

Nicole