Q & A

Hey Guys and Dolls,

I made a post a while back #askmeanything and I received a few questions on my INSTAGRAM AND FACEBOOK STORY. Although this was some time ago it is never to late.

So , below are the answers you have been looking for!

If I have missed anything comment below….

1. Do you only write fiction?

For now, yes.

2. What’s your favorite book?

I cannot pick one it would be doing an injustice to the others, seriously.

3.How long have you been writing?

It feels like forever, but I really took it serious in year five when my teacher took great interest in my work. My teacher was determined to see me succeed advocating for advance curriculum.

4.What inspired you to write?

I loved reading from a young age and I fell in love with the characters in Roald Dahls extensive collection, before graduating to Judy Bloom and R. L. Stine. I guess I just wanted to create my own little worlds that black girls existed in. It was always apparent that none of the characters I read about lived in my world. When I was introduced to Rosa Guy I began searching for black narratives far and wide. Essentially my love of books inspired me to put bed to paper.

5.Do you know that there are very few black British writers?

As far as statistics are concerned there is a limit number of black writers and illustrators in the field. However, when you cast you eyes across instagram beneath the hashtag #blackbristhwriters more than a few pop up. There are many resources available via social media and Web outlets. Multiple #illustrators and #digitalartist fully capable of providing services required ate accessible.

There is a hashtag for everything

#editor

#publisher

…you get the drift..

#publishers

6. How do you make contact with other authors and publishers?

As a independent writer finding the right people and sourcing the correct services can be difficult. Do not fret, social media has a whole heap of options available to you.

It is important to forge relationships with like minded individuals. So, send a few messages to illustrators and editors you like or better yet click their links and complete your own research.

By sending a personal message you could potentially curate a productive relationship that can also be beneficial to both parties in terms of advice and support.

Disclamer: If you get no reply please do not badger anyone. ONE message is enough!

Also there are many loops on Instagram connecting likeminded people. Requirements to join are below in their description box, each look is different. Currently I am fascinapted with #blackwomenlooping.

@blkwomenlooping

7. Do You ever feel like giving up?

The independent publishing world is a lonely place. So, yes I have multiple times, but something always makes me go back to doing what I love. In someways it helps me stay sane. Don’t be put of by the fact you might be doing this alone. This should help you remain focused on your goal.

Thank you for reading #askmeanything

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B L O S S O M

He stood at the patio door and watched her move the leaves away from the root of her tree. The way her back bent ever so slightly and her hands danced across the leaves evoked his memories. Sometimes she had been withered and badly beaten by the rains but never once did she complain. Standing tall in the summer sun she would clutch her petals and bloom again. Smiling he observed as she walked towards him an old twinkle in her eye. It amazed him that while the tide of nature slowly approached and their final winter was almost due he still looked at her as a fresh summers bloom. .
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T E A  A N Y O N E.


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While compiling some research I stumbled upon the essays  of Stuart Hall, I was amazed at his intricate analysis of identity and ethnicity. Understanding the importance of  cultural identity and ethnicity and its connection to the individual make up of ones identity. Brings me to my point –  Lately there has been a surge in black media and literature and I guess that can be attributed to the growth in creative outlets. The black narrative has long since been ignored by british mainstream media and the absence of the authentic voice reduces the effectiveness of developement in these essential areas. In order to address the lack of diversity in books and provide books or media that displays this, we need more writers of colour. It is essential we tell our own stories in our own voices.
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NEVER LOOK BACK|| COMING SOON


Sometimes we think we never have to look back, but when the past come knocking backwards is the only way forward……
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Victor thought he would die with his name but the owner wants it back.
Can Victor give up everything his accomplished?
Will the past kill his future?
Or will Victor make the ulitmate sacrifice and live?
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T H E  F R E Q U E N C Y:

They disturbed the earth with their presence, blinded the sun with their shine. Unite sisters that have been adorned by the heavenly divine. They came to win, everytime. Their speech was like beautiful music, a tune you can rewind. A smile from their lips a picture you can keep in your mind. As they  dance across your frequencies moving evolving over time. .
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I wrote this after another morning of sullen faces and silence. What happened to a general ‘morning’s or a bright good afternoon’s?
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Then I remembered we are all dancing to our own tune. .
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THE TASTE OF KARMA

Her eyes spoke of internal pain the rain dripping down her face as she wept in vain. Although her blood cooled slightly her distress would not be in vain. One to many times she had been so forgiving, totally disregarding the consequences of her weakness. Now she wanted nothing more than vindication only blood could bring.
The laughter dancing inside ears tormenting her in the dark alleyway. Stepping out from beneath the shadows her silhouette kissed by the light a passer by could see her beauty. The very thing covered in the darkness that had engulfed her soul letting everything loving whiter and die.
In this moment anything was possible!

Reckless abandonment brought her here. Outside the bar that housed their reception, his wedding. She had rebuked at the thought his pimple face maturing into a man while her smooth skin rippled with wrinkles.
The day he confessed his love for another she swore she heard the sound of her heart breaking, ripping through her chest and exposing the emptiness inside.

Music filtered out of the open door, her breath clutched inside her lungs as they stepped out of the pub hand in hand. Treasure giggled gayley but to her it sounded like the scrapping of a chalkbroad. Soaking in the rays of his love, the recipient of his attention Teasure basked in his glow. Closing her eyes as their lips almost touched a shard of her shattered heart.

Holding onto the last piece of her sanity she waited for a complete glimpse of the woman who had achieved the impossible. As her body turned and her face came to view something strange happened. Face to face as they near Treasure had a darkness in her eyes as sight she had seen before he tore her heart out.

There was no recollecting of the moment her sparkle died an instantly she knew Teasure would find out sooner or later.Suddenly her pain seem insignificant as she understood she too would meet the same fate.
” Congratulations.” She offered to the newly weds.

“Thanks.”

The look on his face was priceless as hey past hand in hand. Turning back to the darkness she smiled sweetly the taste of karma resting upon her lips. .

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THE TASTE OF KARMA

Her eyes spoke of internal pain the rain dripping down her face as she wept in vain. Although her blood cooled slightly her distress would not be in vain. One to many times she had been so forgiving, totally disregarding the consequences of her weakness. Now she wanted nothing more than vindication only blood could bring.
The laughter dancing inside ears tormenting her in the dark alleyway. Stepping out from beneath the shadows her silhouette kissed by the light a passer by could see her beauty. The very thing covered in the darkness that had engulfed her soul letting everything loving whiter and die.
In this moment anything was possible!

Reckless abandonment brought her here. Outside the bar that housed their reception, his wedding. She had rebuked at the thought his pimple face maturing into a man while her smooth skin rippled with wrinkles.
The day he confessed his love for another she swore she heard the sound of her heart breaking, ripping through her chest and exposing the emptiness inside.

Music filtered out of the open door, her breath clutched inside her lungs as they stepped out of the pub hand in hand. Treasure giggled gayley but to her it sounded like the scrapping of a chalkbroad. Soaking in the rays of his love, the recipient of his attention Teasure basked in his glow. Closing her eyes as their lips almost touched a shard of her shattered heart.

Holding onto the last piece of her sanity she waited for a complete glimpse of the woman who had achieved the impossible. As her body turned and her face came to view something strange happened. Face to face as they near Treasure had a darkness in her eyes as sight she had seen before he tore her heart out.

There was no recollecting of the moment her sparkle died an instantly she knew Teasure would find out sooner or later.Suddenly her pain seem insignificant as she understood she too would meet the same fate.
” Congratulations.” She offered to the newly weds.

“Thanks.”

The look on his face was priceless as hey past hand in hand. Turning back to the darkness she smiled sweetly the taste of karma resting upon her lips. .

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IN LIFE AND DEATH

Ray Lake had never be alone; totally alone. These past few weeks dead silence had been his fear, music blared from the speakers as he attempted to block out the bad memories and cling onto the good ones. Emptying the laundry bag onto the bed he shifted through the clean items folding as he went alone. Before too long two small piles had risen. Folding the last shirt into four he placed it gently upon the teethering pile, a month ago he had been a husband to Naz Lake, today he was a widow. Picking up the pile of school shirts his stepped over the mat that covered the blood stain and moved down the hallway. Klaire, his only child had chosen to stay with her maternal grandmother but grief would claim him like it had her. Opening the dusty wardrobe he placed the compressed pile into the drawer and slammed it shut...
“This doesn’t make it better you know, folding some clothes and finally getting off your arse!“.Closing the wardrobe doors he hurried to the door, shut it tightly behind him and let his heartbeat regulate..“Still a wimp, no balls to face me. Well doors don’t contain me anymore.” She chuckled. “I can go anywhere I please. Wouldnt you love that Ray? True freedom!” She gushed..Counting slowly from one to ten he ignored the vioce inside his head and past the crime scene nervously. The police had ruled her death as an unfortunate accident, a tragedy even; but Ray had called it a blessing in private and ever since her presence haunted his soul relentlessly. Posing at the top of the stairs her beauty she captured a deeper piece if him even in death. Only the image of beauty distorted as her inner demon exposed its teeth and breathed its fire. Wild and free she floated with ease, her smile eerily broad as she pointed her long finger accusingly..“You killed me!”.”It was an accident!”.Turning her ghostly presence she drifted closer.“This gape on my head says otherwise.” Spinning she let her skirt caress his as he shuddered violently..”I said I would do fix the light”.“Like everything esle you promised and never forfilled.” She laughed.“You were joke then and your still a joke now Ray. You know and I know that I would not have waited for you to fix thay light, just admit it!” She screeched..”Leave me alone.”“You will never be free of me, we will be together forever.”.”Your a figament of my imagination.” He retorted trying hard to convince himself. ” Your a corpse!”He spat..“Only out there but in here I’m alive.” She sniggered as she drove her hand through his cranium..Screaming out in pain Ray fell to his knees”Go away, your dead.” He repeated more forcefully with each one..“Not until you come with me.” She whispered as she pushed him off the step...Tumbling down the stairs Ray saw his whole life flash before him. There she was young and unhappy with everything in life. There he was big spirt and a loud infectious laughter. Ten years past before a glimpse of the misery and pain. Then it came to him like sun bursting through the pouring rain, the day she fell from the ladder. The screws he removed from the steps, the joy he felt when she was dead. Suddenly he took a deep breath, the world went black and he swore he was dead..Dusting off his clothes he glare back at the top of the stairs angrily her smile streching from ear to ear as she stared back happily..Opening her arms she gushed “Welcome Dear!”.Looking down at his lifeless body Ray whimpered but no tear fell. Slowly his eyes left his body and his mind found a renew strength.” Stay right there while I killed you again.” He roared..“Come and get me!” Naz giggled…..© W O R D B E R R Y
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AT THE CROSSROADS

H I M: Release me he cried into the wilderness the fables of man lingering upon his tongue. Forbidden paths walked along the way, some things he could not say, but many things left undone. Taking steps towards the future he cradles his past and wonders if peace will last. Beyond the concrete jungle and down a grassy path he attempts a new start.
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ETERNITY

A L W A Y S AND F O R E V E R;:
Before, I became a mother I wanted to be so many things.
I wanted to travel the world and purchase my own diamond ring.
I had dreams of riches and a house so big. .
Then a detour from the yellow brick road
Meant a beautiful seed was sown
The sight that stole my heart
Then everything I ever planned fell apart
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Life became spontaneous as one more arrived another passenger on this crazy ride.
Just be certain I’ll give you everything I got
I’ll will be that solid rock.
I know you both got dreams and life is not at all what it seems
But the one thing you have that I didn’t;
Is me. .
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