Caroline Wilson's Diary

What Next? I Feel Faint. I See Stars

Oooooo! The stress of it all. 

The last week has been devastating for me -- Then again, I can get quite dramatic. 

Okay, it started with my decision to start paying my mortgage on-line.  Well, I'm a busy woman and things have to move fast for me, even the Internet.  That's what my Internet provider promised.  So there I am being a big girl.  I input all the information necessary so my mortgage can be deducted from my bank account.   

What happened?  The Internet was moving slow, so I hit the submit button again. Now, I'm a person that carries all of .75 cents with me at all times.  So I continue to make all my purchases with my debit card.

What happened next?  I go to my favorite restaurant for dinner, and my card is declined.  "What?" I said to my favorite server.  "I ran it twice," he responded.  He had the she's-suffering-from-the-recession or she's-trifling-and-knew-there-wasn't-a-dime-in-her-account look on his face.  In other words, it looked bad.

Somethings wrong, I think.  I've been robbed!  Identity theft!  Call the cops!  So I contact my bank and I found out what's wrong.  My mortgage has been debited from my account twice. 

I feel faint.  I see stars. 

I tell the automated voice lady to transfer money from my savings account because I've debited, paid bills, wrote my tithes check, etc.  The automated voice lady informs me that ALL the money in savings has been transferred to cover the funds that were coming in. 

I feel faint!  I see stars.  Bile begins to rush to my throat.

Next, I go to church and listen to a wonderful sermon.  I'm driving home thinking that God really wants us to know the tricks of the enemy. 

What next?  I'm driving along, and one of MD's finest stops me.  He looks to be all of 13-years-old.  "Your tags are suspended for failure to complete emissions," he says.  "What?" I respond.  He gives me the she's-trifling-and-knew-her-emissions-wasn't-done look. 

Well, Officer 13-year-old decided to write me a ticket.  I couldn't call him a rat bastard because he's a real person, and God would not have liked it.  Also, Officer 13-year-old would have probably turned his camera off, shot me, and then said I reached for his gun.  It would have been too much drama for my family.  So I look at him with my doe eyes and say, "OMG!  I really didn't get the notice." 

That didn't work!

What's next?  Mama will be here Friday.  I haven't cleaned my house yet.

I feel faint!  I see stars.

It Was No Surprise To The Doctor -- But It Devastasted Me

I make my quarterly visit to the doctor yesterday because it's time for refills on allergy medicine, etc.  I get there and the nurse practitioner says to me, "Let's take your weight".

I look at her like her and her 20-something figure, and I wanted to respond, "Not only can you take my weight, you can have it."  But the obedient woman that I'm trying to be complies.

Why did I do that?  I know deep in my heart, somewhere in there, in my gut that the scale would lie.  Okay, the heart knows the truth, but at that moment I wanted to exchange my heart for my mind.  You can make the mind believe anything.

I step on the scale and watch the number roll pass the number I was at about six years ago, and then it rolled pass the number that I was at four years ago. 

OMG!  It passed the number I was at last year.

I screamed, "STOP!  You rat bastard."  Okay, I know it wasn't nice, but remember the scale is a machine -- it's not a real person so you really don't hurt its feelings when you yell at it.

Finally it stops.  I feel nauseous, and then I see black dots dance before my eyes.  I felt faint.  And then the doctor delivers some news.

NO, I'M NOT PREGNANT.  Just overweight.

What Happened To The Day....Back In The Day We Didn't...

Another one that has me scratching my head. 

I was at an event a few days ago, and an incident happened.  It had me stunned.  I mean my mouth dropped open.  What happened to our sweet children that knew better than to talk back to mama?  Or, address adults as if they were talking to one of their teenage friends?

So there I was having a conversation with an adult. It wasn't one of those conversations that required the opinion or the presence of a child.  Just to be clear when I say child, I mean 18 and under.  The child decided that she wanted to interrupt the conversation, and throw in her five cents (it used to be 2 cents, but with inflation and all...) and with attitude, mind you.  What did I do?  I stand there with my mouth open.  The mother's response, "Ignore her," and she proceeds to have this adult conversation that this child shouldn't be hearing.

What did I say?  "We'll talk later."

Question:  What happened to the day when children stayed in their places?

Here's another one.  I watch our young girls banter back and forth with their parents as if they're grown.  Some even curse, or roll their necks, or bob their heads, and suck their teeths.

Question:  When did children start getting away this?  If I dared walk past my mother and sucked my teeth, I'd require back surgery.

Here's another one.  Have you seen The Total Transformation commercial on CNN?

Are you struggling with a child who is disrespectful, obnoxious or even abusive toward you? Are you frustrated and exhausted from arguing constantly? Do you "walk on eggshells" around your child, avoiding conflicts that will "set him off?" Have you tried screaming, punishing, pleading, and negotiating and your child still walks all over you?

Question:  Does this baffle anyone besides me?

Here's another one. Have you ever been in a public place and you see children falling out?  I mean laying on the floor.  The parent stands and negotiates with the child.

Question:  When did the child decide that it was going to rule and regulate?

You see, back in the day my parents didn't allow such behavior.  They practiced what's nowadays called child abuse.  You got whacked in the mouth for talking back.  You were told to stay in a child's place.  You fell out one time and they'd fall out with you.  Once you got off the ground, there was no more falling out.  When mama said stop.  She didn't have to say it over and over again.  And daddy, he didn't have to say a word - he just gave you a look.

Question:  Does anyone have any comments to this?

 

Lehman, J. "Home." The Total Transformation Program. 14 May 2009 <http://www.thetotaltransformation.com/?dsource=googlegenhome3&gclid=CIO9ktf7u5oCFVaF7Qodcxeubw>.

I Was Just Being Auntie

This was a big weekend for my nieces, Lexi and Courtni.  Lexi, the oldest, was going to her prom.  She and about 17 of her friends pooled their money together and rented limos.  The point of embarkation -- my brother's house.  So that meant lots of household chores. 

Courtni, the youngest, plays AAU basketball (I hope I'm saying this right.  I know nothing about b-ball).  I told my brother and sister-in-law (Mike & Terri) that I'd take Courtni to her games while they got the house ready for Lexi, and her friends, and their families.

I'm at Courtni's game watching her fly through the air like Michael Jordan.  Of course you know I acted a fool.  In the middle of the game, Courtni calls a time out.  She needed her inhaler.  So she ran to her bag, pulled it out and then took a couple of puffs.  I ran over to the bench in the middle of court action and asked, "You okay, baby?"

Courtni's response -- a death glare.  "Auntie, you can't run on the court!  Get off!"

I was stunned.  How was I supposed to know that I couldn't run on the court to check on Auntie's baby.  I'm just being Auntie for crying out loud!

Throughout the game, the poor child took a beating.  She fell, was stepped on, and re-injured her ankle.  I'm being held back by the other parents who say, "It's okay.  She's not dead."

Have they lost their minds? That's my little Court-Court -- all 5'7" of her.  I wanted to take her in my arms and rock her.  Why couldn't she do the ballet thing?

Is this why she doesn't tell me when her games are?

Okay game is over!  We head back to Mike's, and Jaqi (the fashionista -- I Can Do All Things Through Christ) -- yeah that Jaqi -- is doing Lexi's make up. 

I gasp!  She was just a baby yesterday.  How can she be getting ready for a prom? I ask myself.  I start tearing up.  She gives me the death glare, and says, "Auntie, get out!  Don't start crying!"

I pull myself together and we help her get ready.  I hold back the tears and wonder why isn't her parents ready to tear up.  Then I figured it out, they were too busy making sure Lexi's evening went perfect. 

The whole weekend was beautiful and it was the best weekend an Auntie can have.

Novel Update

I know that I'm starting to sound like the boy that cried wolf, but I'm so near finishing the edits that my editor gave me.

On the other hand, I'm beginning to hate the novel and my main character, Sadie Reynolds Burrell.  Oh, did I mention that there is a sequel to this book.  Well, at least, I think there will be a sequel.

The first book is supposed to illustrate the lengths (lies, adultery, etc.) that Sadie will go to just to escape her life in South Carolina.  The second book is supposed to show Sadie's redemption and how she tries to save her daughters (with the help of the Lord Jesus) from the same mistakes she's made.

But, I'm so sick of Sadie!  I'm thinking of killing her off and just letting her go to hell!!!!!

Question of the Day?

This one has me scratching my head.  You all know me and know my outgoing, bubbly personality, right?  I love everybody (most of the time anyway) :-).

So, here's a question for people with my personality.  You work with folks male and female, get along with them, and have professional respect for them, etc. and it's lunch time.  You say, "Hey, you wanna go to Subway or Panda Express?"  There's absolutely nothing behind it except "You wanna get
lunch?"

Okay, so I asked a guy that I work with the question.  We've been working together for some time now.  His response to me.  "Shouldn't I be the one asking?"

I look at him like he has two heads because I didn't know what he was talking about and then realize that he thinks I'm hitting on him.  My alter ego, Shaquita, wanted to respond, "Not if you were the last piece of male specimen on this side of the River Jordan." 

What's worse is that I couldn't suppress the obnoxiou,s guttural laugh that flew out of my mouth.  And if you know me, you all know that I can bellow.  I looked into his hurt eyes and told him that it wasn't that kinda of "lunch question."

Questions for my girls? 
Why do people assume that you have some hidden, romantic agenda?  How romantic can you get over a Kung Pao Chicken, or a sloppy Subway sandwich that you bite into and mayonnaise drips onto the corner of your lips.

Or, does the person you're talking to believe the lie his mother told him when she said, "Baby, you're as fine as Denzel, Tyrese, Brad Pitt, or George Clooney."   So they assume you're after their flabby or non-descript bodies.

I'd like to hear your inputs.

Sadie Update

Okay.  My editor and I had the meeting and it went very well.  I've rewritten my query and started sending it out.  I expected the first two to be rejects because that's just the nature of the beast.  "Oh, me of little faith."  Also, most agents say it takes them about two months to respond.

So three days later, an email comes in from one of my top agents.  I was afraid to open it.  It read, "Hi, Caroline -- we'd love to take a look.  Please send us the first 30 pages."  I blink hard, double-time.

Then another email from another agent.  "Please send me the first 50 pages," she wrote. 

I pinch myself because, the first time I sent the novel out in 2007, it was rejected at least a million + times.

Hiring an editor wasn't exactly a bad idea, I thought to myself.

On a cold Monday morning -- January 12, to be exact, I get an email from one of the agents. 

Hi, Caroline,

Thank you so much for giving me an opportunity to read the beginning of THE DECEPTION OF SADIE BURRELL. Unfortunately, I'm going to have to pass. While there is much to admire in your work (and you're a good writer) I'm afraid that I just didn't connect with the narrative. It had too much “tell” for my taste.  As I'm sure you know, opinions vary considerably in this business and mine is just one. I'm sure you'll find others who feel differently. I hope so!

OMG!  I'm floored.  I eat four heavy meals, and drink a coke.  I don't drink sodas so I really get sick.  My insides are screaming "Why?  Why?  Why?"  I wanted to go home and throw myself across my messy bed and just ask God to slaughter me.

I look at my laptop and say goodbye to Sadie. 

Oh the drama!

I'm about to delete the whole manuscript then it dawned on me.  I know exactly what the agent is talking about.  She didn't connect to my narrative because I didn't show the scenes -- I was telling them.

Example: 

Telling:  Sadie stood. Angry. Defiant.

Showing:  Sadie stood, cupped her hands on her hips, and raised her voice.

You get it right.  You can actually show angry, defiant.

Believe it or not, my editor warned me about the showing vs. telling thing, but I thought I knew better.  So anyway, we're rewriting the scenes, but not the dialogue.

Here is the query that's getting the request.

It’s 1938, and breaking her back in the cotton and tobacco fields of Lee County, South Carolina isn’t Sadie Reynolds’ life goal. Her plan is straightforward: complete her college education. Only then will she be able to leave the oppression of Jim Crow’s South, and her inflexible Negro culture for better opportunities up North.  But Sadie's dreams end abruptly when her papa loses his land, and she has to leave school.

Refusing to accept a lifetime of sharecropping, Sadie lies her way into a marriage with landowner Roy Burrell, and tries to convince him to sell his property.  When the arrangement doesn’t move her toward her dreams, Sadie engages in an affair with a white man -- the great-grandson of one of Lee County's founders, Talbot Billingsley. The affair ends, but not with Sadie's approval.  Infatuated with Talbot, she takes their daughter to Washington, D.C. to find him and the promises of an improved life.  Sadie is captivated by glimpses of the city's black elite -- a sophisticated world she never imagined possible for blacks.  If Sadie wants the better life she so badly desires, she'll have to cheat, steal, and even marry more than one man at a time to get it. 

The Deception of Sadie Burrell is a completed manuscript at 108,000 words, spanning from the 1938 to 1960.  Additionally, I am working on the sequel.  I am ready to send sample chapters or the full manuscript if you so desire.

I'm Nervous...

Okay, she's had my novel since the beginning of December and she's scheduled our meeting for Sunday, 5:00pm.  That's a whopping 48 hrs away.  How can she be so cruel?  Of course, you know I'm talking about my editor.

I wonder if she's punishing me for missing my deadlines, but she said that I should work at my own pace.  So, now I'm sitting here watching the clock, wondering how many red marks her pen has doodle over my masterpiece.

It's Finished

I did it, and right before the year ended.  I've completed my novel, The Redemption of Sadie Burrell.  So you want to know when it will be published, in stores, etc.  Well, 1/3 of my part is finished.  It's with my editor.  She'll make corrections and then we shop it around!

By the way, it's no longer called The Redemption of Sadie Burrell, but The Deception of Sadie Burrell.  We won't see the redemption of her life until the sequel.  So here's my query letter.  Let me know what you think.

            Eighteen-year-old Sadie Reynolds has big dreams; she’ll leave behind the oppressive hand of Jim Crow’s South and its hardships for better opportunities up North.  Breaking her back in the cotton and tobacco fields of Lee County, S.C. isn’t her life’s goal, but her dreams end abruptly when her papa loses his land.  Now, she’s lost the only opportunity available that would keep her out of the fields:  Education.   Determined to escape the South, Sadie uses lies, adultery and bigamy to break the written-in-stone traditions of her Negro culture. 

Set in the 1930s, and spanning to the 1960s, The Deception of Sadie Burrell take readers from rural South Carolina where Sadie’s deceptions start with an inconvenient marriage to Roy Burrell to Washington, D.C. in search of her white lover, Talbot Billingsley.  Her unrealistic love for Talbot and desire to gain entrance into Washington, D.C.’s black elite social clubs rule her decisions to use whatever it takes to have it all.

You're Invited

If you're free New Year's Eve, I'd love for you to be my guest.

Date:  December 31, 2008
Time:  9:00 pm
Place:  Suitland High School Arts and Annex Center
            5200 Silver Hill Road, Suitland, MD