#INMEMORYOF1996

1996:
The nineties was the era of disposable #cameras and grainy pictures. Double exposure or floating blobs of light distorting faces.
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You would be lucky enough to get one clear shot.
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Gone was the illuminious coloured shell suits and accessories.
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#SaltnPepa had #revolutionised leather jackets and large hoops. #Envouge gave us something we could feel and #SWV made us Weak. #KrissKross  wore their clothes backwards and #Snoopdogg brought rompers to life.
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WHAT DO YOU LIKE MOST ABOUT THE #NINETIES?

Comment Below…

Jodeci

The musicial melodies of the nineties is what I loved the most.

#BACKINTHEDAY I went to #Jodeci concert, I can remember it like it was yesterday. The walkway between #Wembleypark and #Wembleyarena was packed with concert goers. To my horror my mother decided we should walk through the crowd even though, we were not going. I was so disappointed my bottom lip had fallen below sea level,  beleive me walking through the excited crowd was the last thing I wanted to do. When my mother handed me an envelope I didnt pay attention to her neat handwriting across the front. Instead, I almost ripped the envelope in half through fustration.
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Inside the envelope was TWO FRONT ROW TICKETS, seat one and two.
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#mamacamethrough
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I screamed and cried at the same time. #charlieandthechocolatefactory had nothing on me.
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After a few hours of #MaryJBlige and others it was time for Jodeci. I almost fainted when Devonte slowly pulled his pants halfway .
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This new project I am working on is called
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“In memory of 1996.”
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Playing old songs and watching old movies has enabled a re-education. #80sbaby #90sgirl..


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REPLAY:
#Music is a key part of life! There is nothing like a good #lovesong or  break up song. Back in the day all these female groups were #influential. #Creating a project combine with music draws on #emotions and #feelings while creating a #mood.
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Putting together a nineties #playlist to play while writing I forgot how many songs were unforgettable. I’m sure the #neighbours will be complaining about the noise tomorrow, but hey we only live once. #carpediem.
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So, in the spirit of the 90s Let’s play a #game..
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…LOOK AT THE LAST IMAGE CAN YOU TELL ME WHO SANG WHAT?
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A. Red-light Special
B. Hey Mr Dj
C. Weak
D. If you love me
E. Understanding
F. Kissing You
G. Let’s talk about Sex
H. Hold on
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ONE IS MISSING..NAME THAT GROUP..?
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© W O R D B E R R Y
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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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INHERITANCE – PART ONE

There was no diamonds paved on these streets, no hood millionaires either. Lined against the pavement four black hearse awaiting their passengers as a small crowd formed. Mother Gee had been a pillar of the community, a leader of sorts. Now she was a corpse the belly of the beast had been ripped open. People from across the globe had arrived to pay their respects to one of the most feared women of all time. For almost two decade Mother Gee had taken charge of the corners and guided her entourage to success.

It was the job of dealer to sell a dream and that included the lifestyle. Mother Gee could sell anyone, anything. You see, it wasn’t the small time hustler driving the big bend off the corner who was making the money, it was the woman you never saw coming. Kya Gee pushed through the crowd until she reached a small opening and slipped into an empty hearse. Taking a deep breath she lay her hands in her lap and inhaled deeply once more. All her life she had lived without fear, confident her name alone would protect her. But, today the heart of their family was being laid to rest and no one was safe.

There was so many unanswered questions the air felt thick with the 
heaviness of treason.

Someone knew who killed Mother Gee and that someone was among them.

The door opened and her steadying hands begun to shake once more. Sliding inside Shady told the driver to move.

“Its gonna be alright, Star.” he shrugged.

Folding her arms Kya kissed her teeth.

“How do you figure that! We are on our own!”

Pulling a spliff out of his top pocket he nudged her gently.

“Take this.”

Refusing Kya returned her gaze to the window. Watching the blocks as the car past by Kya rubbed a tear aggressively from her eyes. The solid grey concrete blocks had big dreams but the black clouds never strayed far from the top. There were good people here, families just trying to make it through the struggle but the hood had a way of seeping into your veins and taking over your natural senses.Secrets  buried in the foundation’s of the walls while the walking ghosts filled the stairwells with a sickly sweet thick haze.

Today the streets were empty, the hustlers and respectgul attendees. A trail of cars leading towards the cemetery had joined her family in their united front. Looking back at the parade she felt the bile rise to the back of her throat and closed her eyes tight willing the taste to dissappear. In her heart of hearts she knew Mother Gee would never die. Just like the legends before her she would lived forever on the edge of tongues, travelling whispers through the walls like the bogeyman.



Lighting the spliff Shady relaxed into the leather and exhaled.

“ She wasnt an easy woman to get to.”


Kya frowned. “She!”

“You know what I mean.”

Staring him down like and xray Kya looked for some sort of sign any form of trickery and saw none. Relaxing slightly she took the spliff as he offered it once more.

“Shady between me and you someone close to us did this.”

Shady nodded, exhaling the smoke into the cars interior before responding thoughtfully.


“Thats obivious whats not obvious is who the person is. She always told us our tume of
limited.”


“Why the fuxk you taking this so easy.” Kya snapped. ” Its like you have forgotten she was murdered for fuck sake.”

Suddenly thesmoke lost its flavour, handing it back she shook her head.

“Whoever dis this will be put to sleep.”


Shady nodded

“I wanna be there when they take that last nap.”

At that moment Kya had no idea how much her life was about to change.

@officialwordberry

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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© W O R D B E R R Y
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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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MOONSHINE &  RAINBOWS


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Moonshine and rainbows that danced across the wall. A life if strawberries and cream
He promised all but never was as it seems.
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Smooth stroking as she glided in the air on his love.
He had decided she was the one.
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White dress, a diamond ring and all. While lurking in the darkness the truth hidden in his crystal ball; his lips never telling all
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The colossal distance and extreme loneliness appeared after the summer as Autumn fall.
In the mist of the coming winter breeze she knew it all.
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As he danced across the earth back to her heart with stories to share, the moonshine and rainbows reappeared. But in the shadows  she was no longer there. .
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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. .

© W O R D B E R R Y
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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. .

© W O R D B E R R Y
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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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