Friday, December 19, 2014

A Christmas treat from Electa Rome Parks




Just in time for your holiday reading pleasure, two short stories available at amazon.

These Boots Were Made for Stalking


A New Dawn












These Boots Were Made for Stalking by Electa Rome Parks
By confronting his #1 psychotic fan and notorious stalker, New York Times best-selling author, Xavier Preston sets out to tame his inner demons by filming a documentary, These Boots Were Made for Stalking, based on mental illness and its long-term effects. After the attempted murder of his best friend, Dre', as a way to avenge Xavier's refusal to have a relationship with her after a steamy one-night stand, Pilar is currently residing and receiving treatment at a high-end mental institution.

These Boots Were Made for Stalking takes on a whole new meaning when stalker and victim come face-to-face after a year’s hiatus. Legions of Pilar and Xavier fans will not be able to resist this absolutely delicious reunion of this toxic couple.

Some reunions are doomed from the start…


A New Dawn by Electa Rome Parks
Dawn, a true Georgia Peach, a hottie from the state of Georgia, discovers that turning 40 is not all it’s cracked up to be as her best friend assures her it is. According to Dawn, 40 is not the new 30 by a long-shot. Sagging breasts, liver spots, hot flashes and dry skin are not cool. After experiencing and surviving three life-changing situations --- Dawn soon learns that no matter how old you are, it’s never too late for a new beginning. 


 

Thursday, November 13, 2014

These Boots Were Made for Stalking (a short story) by Electa Rome Parks



She's back...

These Boots Were Made for Stalking (a short story)
by
Electa Rome Parks


By confronting his #1 psychotic fan and notorious stalker, New York Times best-selling author, Xavier Preston sets out to tame his inner demons by filming a documentary, These Boots Were Made for Stalking, based on mental illness and its long-term effects. After the attempted murder of his best friend, Dre', as a way to avenge Xavier's refusal to have a relationship with her after a steamy one-night stand, Pilar is currently residing and receiving treatment at a high-end mental institution.

These Boots Were Made for Stalking takes on a whole new meaning when stalker and victim come face-to-face after a year’s hiatus. Legions of Pilar and Xavier fans will not be able to resist this absolutely delicious reunion of this toxic couple.

Some reunions are doomed from the start…


Pre-order today at amazon.com












































Saturday, February 15, 2014

When Will America Value Black Males Lives?

 
Saturday, February 15, 2014
The Verdict is in on Michael Dunn Murder Case
 


I'm so furious right now, I'm literally shaking....I feel totally helpless!

Am I missing something, because to me, this case was cut and dry. Michael Dunn murdered this young male in cold-blood. I have a young BLACK son, who recently turned twenty, and I fear for his life and future. What country do we live in where a life can be taken over loud music? I'm sick of America sending the message that my son's life, my BLACK son's life, isn't worth anything. How many young BLACK men do we have to lose because they walked through the wrong neighborhood on the way from the store or they are doing what teenagers do: hanging out, playing their music loud and having fun?

How dare you Michael Dunn in your arrogant, racist, self-righteous, "knowing you belong to that exclusive, privileged, white male club", feel you have a right to take a life with no repercussions? If you didn't like the loud rap music, then you should have moved your car, drive away. Who are you? What right did you have to conform those boys to begin with? I'm so sick of this mentality; it's disgusting. I'm sick, sick, sick of the George Zimmermans (who somehow is a celebrity now) and the Michael Dunns of this world. No matter what title you choose, the world knows you are murderers and that's the label you will wear until the day you die.

Michael Dunn, after you've murdered, you had the audacity to drive off for pizza and wine...What type of person are you? You have a son; in fact, you were in town for his wedding. Your son deserves the right to live his life, have a family and live happily ever after, but Jordan Davis didn't? You didn't give him that right. You played judge and jury. The state of Florida will answer to this one way or another; you have blood on your hands. How many more Trayvon Martins and Jordan Davises do we have to lose?

Another sad day in America.....

Friday, October 04, 2013

Fallen Angel by Greater Ambition


Introducing Talvin Rome
aka Greater Ambition


Fallen Angel
 
You bring me pleasure and joy...
Yet an emotional bind
Often smiling unawares as I find you on my mind
That would be fine, if only you weren’t his but mine
Although you tell me different when I’m stroking you from behind
Pure lips of a woman are to be cherished, yet I love to hear you lying
Drunk off the wine I sip from your wicked lips

Let me explain this game of deception
Drift back to what we were before lusts inception
We both were in committed situations
We were honestly just cool
You would ask of me advice regarding life
Never disrespected the fact I had a wife
Then your man chose the actions of a fool,
Guess in his mind you didn’t suffice

Your romance first dissolved
Issues arose in mine, that went unresolved
We were both hurt, protective of our hearts, guard on high alert
Somehow you and I began to flirt
Never fathomed around each other our worlds would revolve
Not each other’s type but the unexpected felt so right,
Known each other for years, finally went out twice
One night we gambled and rolled the dice
Found out you was a nasty girl, oh and I’m a Scorpio
Yeah we bout that life

Freaks resurrected stayed naked every night
Not one time did you ever tell me no
It always started out with us kissing passionate and slow
Remember all of our spots
In chairs, cars, garages, tables,
Almost got caught in that parking lot
Chemistry was crazy, our clothes stayed on the floor
It wasn’t just the sex it was a whole lot more

Began to love you to the core
Talking was like hearing you sing
Rebuilt my confidence made me feel like king
You would always say I’m different, it turned you on just to see me reading
Always said how you can see me succeeding,
Knew I was real and not an act
Ambition and confidence to a woman is an aphrodisiac
Texting me asking if I wanted to receive it
I replied "I’ll eat, beat it, then go back and eat it
Not just today, all week I’ll repeat it"
She told me to make sure her mouth was open wide before I skeeted

Then one day it all was to be deleted
You asked if I understood and I did,
And truthfully family is important so I did
But I kept my other feelings hid amid the transition from kissing to missing you
Weeks went by.
And you were not happy so you calling me
Lord knows I tried to ignore her
I simply adore her,
She talking soft, yet yelling, compelling, telling me
Saying wherever I’m at is where you want to be
Not sure if it was the tone in her voice
Or the shine of her green eyes
Or maybe something warm and moist off in between her red thighs
That made me oblige

Now we stealing moments
You kept the gun to the head of father time
You put his back against the wall
Robbed him of his hours, minutes and every second you can find
In other words when your man called you were lying
Crime of passion
And I’m complicit
Damn right I’m with it
Our acts were so explicit
Anywhere, anytime, nothing was ever scripted

Phone alert, check it
I love what I read
After the slow head
I have her legs at her head
He calling, hers phone ringing
She calling too, my name baby singing
Answering the phone, face covered in my seamen
Speaking sweet to hmmm lets call him "Obie"
Devilishly looking at me
My sexy ass demon
Once his solely, you were once wholly
His betrayal led to his fall from your grace

Yet you are like a fallen angel
Now unholy, don’t want to back to heaven, prefer my place
We can’t keep committing these crimes
Karma is going to judge us and give us a hell of a time.
Father time has seen our faces and you know he gone testify
If you would just stop living a lie and free yourself from that false reality
We wouldn’t need to try and use true love as an alibi,
The case would be thrown out
And Time would become our ally
Sever those ties and be mine
So you can stop calling me crying, with him you’re dying
Do you understand what you’re denying

What we have is such a rare find
I wonder if you really see what could be
I wonder if I can justify sin for wanting what could have been
You were like my best friend
Remember that Future song, promised to "Neva End"
But the future want come if it never begins.
I pray God forgives transgressions
when intentions were pure and then you find out that you were just enjoying the Devils blessings.

Talvin Rome
Greater Ambition

Saturday, November 03, 2012

A Sneak Preview: When Baldwin Loved Brenden by Electa Rome Parks




There is no greater joy than the birth of a new baby, an addition to the family. Well, my 9th baby, When Baldwin Loved Brenden, drops January 29, 2013. As you must know, I'm super excited and can't wait to introduce my baby to the world, to her aunties and cousins! I recently received the sonogram and I want to share the joy:) So, here's your sneak preview!


Fair-weather friends come and go, but true friendship lasts a lifetime. Same goes for true love.

Ten years is a long time. Much can change in ten years, an entire decade. That’s how many years have passed when a former close-knit group of college friends, Baldwin, Brenden, Bria and Christopher, self-proclaimed The Group, are tragically reunited to attend the funeral of one of their own in a small North Carolina town.

The Group hasn’t seen or spoken to one another since an unfortunate set of circumstances placed their friendship in jeopardy ten years earlier. After graduation, everyone went their separate ways and never looked back, until now. The past has a way of catching up with you, sooner or later. Baldwin, the romantic, Brenden, the do-gooder, Bria, the wildchild, Christopher, the pretty boy, are all about to discover the truth in that.

Rihanna was once dubbed the peacemaker of the group. Her death reunites them for an unforgettable, poignant and life changing few days. Each friend will confront their own internal demons and leave a changed person. Secrets are revealed, hurts exposed, tears shed and laugher shared, all in the name of friendship and love.

Can anything truly tear real friendship and love apart?












Sunday, September 02, 2012

You Are So Nice!

You are so nice. You are so kind.
 
If I hear those words one more time, I'm going to throw up in my mouth. Don't get me wrong, I am nice. I am kind. And. . . I'm very proud of these genuine qualities I possess.
 
However, I have a question. Why is it perceived by some as a weakness? Why do I have to be a bitch to be respected? Or why do I have to be an "A" type personality to get attention? Why do I have to be aggressive and in your face? I don't!
 
Do not mistake my kindness for weakness. I repeat, do not because you may be surprised. I don't have to talk the loudest and carry the biggest stick.
 
I will continue to be me and that's just fine with me.


Labels: , , , ,

Sunday, August 12, 2012

Getting to know author - Electa Rome Parks



Getting to know author
Electa Rome Parks



When did you start writing?I have been writing for as long as I can remember; writing and reading have always defined who and what I am as a person. Writing is the love affair of my life. From a professional standpoint, I started writing and penned my first novel, The Ties That Bind in 2001.


How, why and when did you decide you wanted to be a published writer? How did you go about it? What did you do to achieve this end?For me, becoming a published writer was a natural progression. Friends and family who knew me back in the day, they can all testify to the fact that I was always writing something (a short story, a poem, a play) or had my head buried in a book, usually mystery or supernatural. Being a quiet, shy child, writing was a means for me to express myself, non-verbally. Later, I realized I had a voice that needed to be heard (read). And reading was my escape to meeting other people and worlds that I could only imagine.


I went about accomplishing my goal by researching, networking and finding mentors in my genre. I lived and breathed the literary industry. Eventually I published via print on demand, then traditionally self-published and eventually went mainstream after being picked up by a major publishing house. I achieved this by hustling. . . attending every conference, literary event, signing, book club meeting, etc., that I could. I made it my mission to network with creative, like-minded people in the industry and to get the word out about my book and myself. Passion, persistence and perservance paid off when a literary agent contacted me and within 30 days had inked a 3-book deal with a major publishing house.


How would you describe the writing you are doing?I write contemporary and erotic fiction. I’ve also been classified as a women’s fiction author.


Who is your target audience? What motivated you to start writing for this audience?My target audience is anyone who enjoys a good book! Primarily, African-American women and a small percentage of men tend to purchase my novels. I don’t know if I was motivated to start writing for this audience as opposed to this audience is who I am. I am an African-American woman; however my storylines tend to stem from life experiences, lessons, and situations that are universal.


In the writing you are doing, which authors influenced you most? Why did they have this influence?
I absolutely adore contemporary fiction authors and my greatest influence was, hands down, author Terry McMillian. I witnessed and applauded the commercial successful she achieved with her books, from them being New Times Bestselling novels to being adapted to movies for the big screen. Her books, especially Disappearing Acts, was the first book that spoke to me as I saw myself and others in the storyline. I could relate. I laughed out loud, I cried and I didn’t want that book to end. I wanted to savor each page, digest it and breathe it in. There was such a connection that it left an impact that inspired me to reach for my dream.


How have your own personal experiences influenced your writing? I’m sure in many ways that I haven’t even though about. I write from the heart about many topical issues prevalent in our communities. I’ve touched upon domestic abuse, molestation, friendship, dysfunctional relationships, stalking, mental illness and the list goes on. My characters aren’t perfect and my storylines don’t necessarily have happily ever after endings. However, they are much like real life. I share life lessons and give readers imperfect characters they can embrace, whether they choose to love or hate them.


What are your main concerns as a writer? How do you deal with these concerns? My main concern as a writer is the constantly changing literary climate. I know of many talented authors who have lost book deals and can’t appear to get another one. I hate the fact that the industry is all about sales and the bottom line. There doesn’t appear to be an appreciation for the craft or an internal mentoring process for the author anymore.

I deal with these concerns by accepting the fact that what’s going to be is going to be. What’s meant for me is for me. I simply can’t sweat the small stuff so to speak. I have to continue to write my stories and be true to myself. How the changes pan out remains to be seen.


What are the biggest challenges that you face? And, how do you deal with these challenges?I think I answered this in the previous question. Staying abreast of the changing industry and remaining relevant are two big challenges for me. I deal with them by doing what I love to do, which is to write. I simply can’t allow myself to worry about things which are not within my control.


Do you write every day? How does each session start? How do you proceed? How, where and why does it end? When I first started my professional literary career, I did write every single day. However, with my life evolving, that has changed. I simply don’t have the time to write every single day. My session usually starts with me writing long-hand and simply doing a free flow style. I let the characters speak and tell their story. So, you will never see me with a detailed outline that some authors utilize. Later, I transpose my notes to my computer and tighten the prose up a bit. Typically, by the end of the session, I end up with a good first draft that later will be rewritten several times and edited.


How many books have you written so far? (Please include titles, publisher, date of publication and a brief description of the book/books. I have written eight books, with a 9th book,When Baldwin Loved Brenden, dropping January 2013. A brief description of each novel can be found at my website, www.electaromeparks.com. Please stop by and check them out!


The Stalker Chronicles (Kensington/Urban Books, 2012)
True Confessions (Kensington/Urban Books, 2010)
Diary of a Stalker (Kensington/Urban Books, 2009)
These Are My Confessions (HarperCollins/Avon Red, 2007)
Ladies' Night Out (Penguin Group/NAL, 2007)
Almost Doesn't Count (Penguin Group/NAL, 2005)
Loose Ends (Penguin Group/NAL, 2004)
The Ties That Bind (Penguin Group/NAL, 2004)


What is your latest book about?The Stalker Chronicles - She's back, and this time it's all about revenge.

Tall, dark, and handsome bestselling male author Xavier Preston thought his nightmare—in the form of Pilar, a fanatical stalker/fan—had finally ended. Little does he know it’s only beginning. When Xavier met Pilar, he got much more than he bargained for. What started out as an erotic one-night stand quickly turned into a dangerous game of obsession and pain, with both parties playing to win. Then she simply disappeared.


Stunning Pilar hasn't gone away, though. In fact, she has been very near, watching his every move and patiently waiting for him to realize they were meant to be together forever. She still believes they’re soul mates, and the only option for her is “Until death do us part.” If she can't have Xavier, then no one can. Now no one is safe—not his friends, and definitely not him.


Revenge can be a real killer.

How long did it take you to write the book? It took approximately 4 months to write the novel. This timeframe didn’t include rewrites and edits.


Where and when was it published?It was published in January 2012 by Kensington/Urban Books.


How did you chose a publisher for the book? Why this publisher? What advantages and/or disadvantages has this presented? How are you dealing with these?My recent novel was part of a second, two-book deal with this particular publishing house.


Which aspects of the work you put into the book did you find most difficult? Why do you think this was so? How did you deal with these?At this point in my career, I pretty much have a system or rhythm when it comes to my writing. Once I have my storyline and the characters are speaking to me, it’s on. LOL. As strange as it may sound, I almost see the various scenes played out in my mind like a movie. I hear my characters voices as clear as I can hear yours.

I can’t really describe any difficulties I had with my previous project. It was a much-anticipated, much-requested sequel and the characters hadn’t left me. In fact, their voices were as strong as ever. So, it was like revisiting old friends, playing catch-up and putting it all on paper.


Which aspects of the work did you enjoy most? Why is this?I enjoyed revisiting old friends in The Stalker Chronicles, which is the sequel to Diary of a Stalker. I had missed my characters and it was refreshing to find out what was going on in their lives and to speak with them again.


What sets the book apart from the other things you've written?This was only my second attempt at an erotic thriller. So the genre was a little different from what I typically write.


In what way is it similar to the others? It was similar in that it incorporated my trademark style of writing that I have become known for: it was drama-filled, spicy, relationship-based, fast paced with imperfect characters and with a twist to the storyline.


What will your next book be about?My next book is titled, When Baldwin Loved Brenden.
Fair-weather friends come and go, but true friendship lasts a lifetime. Same goes for true love.
Ten years is a long time. Much can change in ten years, an entire decade. That’s how many years have passed when a former close-knit group of college friends, Baldwin, Brenden, Bria and Christopher, self-proclaimed The Group, are tragically reunited to attend the funeral of one of their own in a small North Carolina town.

The Group hasn’t seen or spoken to one another since an unfortunate set of circumstances placed their friendship in jeopardy ten years earlier. After graduation, everyone went their separate ways and never looked back, until now. The past has a way of catching up with you, sooner or later. Baldwin, the romantic, Brenden, the do-gooder, Bria, the wildchild, Christopher, the pretty boy, are all about to discover the truth in that.


Rihanna was once dubbed the peacemaker of the group. Her death reunites them for an unforgettable, poignant and life changing few days. Each friend will confront their own internal demons and leave a changed person. Secrets are revealed, hurts exposed, tears shed and laugher shared, all in the name of friendship and love.

Can anything truly tear real friendship and love apart?

What would you say has been your most significant achievement as a writer?I would say my most significant achievement has been just that. . . the fact that I am a published author. It’s not a dream anymore, it’s a reality. I have a voice. Readers embrace my books and enjoy them. I’m doing something I love and that I’m passionate about. It doesn’t get any better than that. Priceless.







Saturday, July 21, 2012


Introducing the GA Peach Authors
Marissa Monteilh, Gail McFarland, Electa Rome Parks & Jean Holloway


"Creativity is just connecting things. When you ask creative people how they did something, they feel a little guilty because they didn't really do it, they just saw something. It seemed obvious to them after a while. That's because they were unable to connect experiences they've had and synthesize new things."
--Steve Jobs

"To be creative means to be in love with life. You can be creative only if you love life enough that you want to enhance its beauty, you want to bring a little more music to it, a little more poetry to it, a little more dance to it."
--Osho

"Why do writers write? Because it isn't there."

--Thomas Berger

Monday, July 16, 2012

Anybody Can Write a Book!


"Anybody can write a book."

 Seriously?

"Yeah, anybody can write a book."

Absolutely not.

"Huh, anybody can write a book. I know if such and such wrote one, I know I can."

"Really? Really?"

Writers are a dime a dozen.

Sitting in the small, elegant room surrounded by a roomful of gossiping women preparing for a few hours of pampering and beauty treatment, I strained my ears to make sure I had heard what I thought I had.

 To my chagrin, I had indeed heard correctly.

 I felt it was somewhat of an insult to imply, hell, not even imply, but to blatantly state it as a fact that a craft, an art, one I personally took very seriously, could be done by anyone. Can anybody fly a plane? Can anybody perform surgery? Can anybody move people with their words? My answer is an unequivocal, "NO!"

 I remember the days, not that long ago, when writers were well respected, well regarded leaders in their communities. Writing was a noble profession. Nowadays, with the onslaught of self-publishing and an overly saturated marketplace, it must appear that anyone can write a book because everyone and their mama's first cousin is doing so.

 I have always proclaimed that everyone has at least one good book in them. Unfortunately, that doesn't necessarily mean you can or should write it. Maybe you have a story that needs to be heard, but written by someone else.

 So, Dear Margaret,

 Regardless of what you may think, anybody cannot write a book. Writing is an art. A craft. A talent to be softly caressed, constantly nurtured and carefully honed. And writers, well writers, are in love with words because we realize they are so much more than simple letters and syllables on a page. Words possess power and magic. They evoke emotion, whether good or bad, words declare independence and announce the start of a new nation where you can become anything you want to become with hard work. Words speak of dreams of racial equity where we aren't judged by the color of our skin. Words even speak of the path to salvation. . . and heaven and hell.


Writing a book doesn't consist of throwing fragmented, disjointed and run-on sentences on a page for 200 plus pages and placing a title on the cover page. It's so much more. Sure, it may appear easy enough. Good writers have a knack of making it seem that way. . . effortless.

 In hindsight, maybe she was right. Anybody can write a book. Not everyone can write a good book.

Sunday, June 24, 2012

A Sneak Preview: When Baldwin Loved Brenden by Electa Rome Parks



There is no greater joy than the birth of a new baby, an addition to the family. Well, my 9th baby, When Baldwin Loved Brenden, drops January 29, 2013. As you must know, I'm super excited and can't wait to introduce my baby to the world, to her aunties and cousins! I recently received the sonogram and I want to share the joy:) So, here's your sneak preview!


Fair-weather friends come and go, but true friendship lasts a lifetime. Same goes for true love.

Ten years is a long time. Much can change in ten years, an entire decade. That’s how many years have passed when a former close-knit group of college friends, Baldwin, Brenden, Bria and Christopher, self-proclaimed The Group, are tragically reunited to attend the funeral of one of their own in a small North Carolina town.

The Group hasn’t seen or spoken to one another since an unfortunate set of circumstances placed their friendship in jeopardy ten years earlier. After graduation, everyone went their separate ways and never looked back, until now. The past has a way of catching up with you, sooner or later. Baldwin, the romantic, Brenden, the do-gooder, Bria, the wildchild, Christopher, the pretty boy, are all about to discover the truth in that.


Rihanna was once dubbed the peacemaker of the group. Her death reunites them for an unforgettable, poignant and life changing few days. Each friend will confront their own internal demons and leave a changed person. Secrets are revealed, hurts exposed, tears shed and laugher shared, all in the name of friendship and love.

Can anything truly tear real friendship and love apart?









Sunday, February 12, 2012

Rest in Peace Whitney!

 "We all die. The goal isn't to live forever, the goal is to create something that will."
~Chuck Palahniuk~


 Whitney Houston passed away February 12, 2012. She was 48 years old.

I never in a million years thought I would be hearing those words, not anytime soon, anyway. In fact, I went to sleep last night hoping I'd wake up and it would all be a horrible dream...but it wasn't. The world has lost a shining star, an international icon. My heart aches and my prayers go out to her family.

Anyone who knows me knows that I love me some Whitney Houston. I have all her Cds and even play her holiday Cd each Christmas; it's part of our family tradition. From the very first time I saw her, I remember asking, "Who is that?" There was just something about her that made you take a second look. Whitney was talk, thin and beautiful. Unforgettable. And when she opened her mouth to sing, it wasn't just any voice that spilled forth, it came straight from the angelic gates of heaven itself. You realized you had witnessed something spectacular and God-given.I was in awe. I appreciated talent even back then.

There was just something about Whitney that appealed to me immediately. Maybe it was because she was REAL. She was the sister-friend that I could have gone to school with or simply hung out with. I could imagine myself picking up the phone and saying, "Whitney, girl let me tell you what happened today"  or "Girl, you showed out on the Soul Train Awards." Whitney carried herself with an air of class and sophistication whenever I was privy to her presence on stage. Her beauty radiated outward like a halo for all to see and she made me so very proud.

Whitney's talent spoke volumes and when she blessed us with a song, we realized we were in the presence of a superstar. God blessed her with an extraordinary voice that generations of young artist would try to emulate, but there was only one Whitney. There will never be another. When she sang a song, we felt it somewhere deep within, inside. We didn't just hear her songs, we experienced each emotion. For me, it's all about the emotion. Not many artist can capture the essence of a song that makes us feel it, note by note.

Back in the day, I wanted to be Whitney. I sensed there was something special about her from the very beginning. She had that IT appeal and it radiated brilliantly like the brightest star in the sky. I emulated her hairstyle. You know, the one she wore with big wavy curls, and I attempted to dress like her. I didn't have the height, but I had her reed-thin frame. And her smile lit up any stage she graced. Whitney could do no wrong in my eyes. I would defend her like she was my home girl from the block.

Yes, Whitney was human. So, please don't judge her. She had very real flaws, imperfections, demons and a dark side like the rest of us. Guess what? It didn't take away from the incredible gift God had bestowed upon her. Remember how she took that Dolly Parton song, I Will Always Love You, and made it her own? She placed her stamp on it and it was pure Whitney. Remember the video of her simply sitting in a chair, how could you forget it, there was nothing dramatic or over-the-top about it? But she owned that song and when she hit those high notes with little to no effort, I wanted to jump through the screen and give her a high five and say, "You go, girl! Do the damn thing." Whitney was my girl. That's her legacy....she was the greatest talent of my era. And I will always, always love her.

I've come to learn, there is a lesson in everything. What I take away from Whitney Houston's tragic death is twofold:
Life is short, so very short. We are here and gone in the blink of an eye, so don't take it for granted. Show and tell your loved ones how important they are to you. AND...I pray that I live my life in a way that affects people in a positive way. I don't want my living to be in vain. I don't want to be forgettable. When I take my final breath, I want to leave behind something that is lasting and pure and good for generation after generation to appreciate.

Rest in peace, Whitney. You are gone, but never forgotten. There will never be another Whitney Houston. Rest now. Job well done!




Labels: , , , , ,

Tuesday, January 17, 2012

The Wait is Over! The Stalker Chronicles by Electa Rome Parks

She's back, and this time it's all about revenge.


Tall, dark, and handsome bestselling male author Xavier Preston thought his nightmare—in the form of Pilar, a fanatical stalker/fan—had finally ended. Little does he know it’s only beginning.

When Xavier met Pilar, he got much more than he bargained for. What started out as an erotic one-night stand quickly turned into a dangerous game of obsession and pain, with both parties playing to win. Then she simply disappeared.

Stunning Pilar hasn't gone away, though. In fact, she has been very near, watching his every move and patiently waiting for him to realize they were meant to be together forever. She still believes they’re soul mates, and the only option for her is “Until death do us part.” If she can't have Xavier, then no one can. Now no one is safe—not his friends, and definitely not him.

Revenge can be a real killer.




Prologue

It was getting easier and easier now.

She moved quickly and efficiently throughout the spacious three-car garage. She wanted to remove any traces of evidence that she had ever been there. She had always been good at simply disappearing and being invisible. That was easy.

She was definitely more confident, and it showed in her cool, calm, and collected demeanor. She was no longer afraid of being caught, because the urge to punish those who had hurt her was stronger, much more overwhelming, and urgent. She probably couldn’t stop herself even if she wanted to---she was operating on pure animal instinct. The need to survive and protect herself by any means necessary overrode anything else. Fight or flight. And she had long been tired of running.

There had been others over the years, more than she could count on one hand. They were mere vague gray memories that occasionally crossed her mind, like one might think of a stray pet one owned as a child, but she dismissed the images just as quickly. She never held on to them for more than a few fleeting moments in time. Denial was her refuge.

Only one had successfully escaped her sharp talons and womanly wiles. Or had he? Maybe she let him get away, just that one time. She hadn’t determined which. Sometimes she thought of him, when her mind wasn’t a jumble of darkness, discontent, and madness. There were moments. . . .

She missed him, yearned for his special touch, the touch that only he could deliver with precision and skill. His touch brought heat and desire. His lies brought pain and sorrow. She hated that he escaped her grasp, or that possibly she let him walk away, unscathed. She still considered him her soul mate, the one who made her complete and safe and sound. She yearned to feel complete, because most days she realized she was broken and damaged beyond repair. However, she couldn’t think of that one just yet. Not now. That would come later. The strenuous act of positioning this one just right was over. Now she had serious, delicate cleanup work to complete. Within seconds, that one, the one who got away, was pushed to the dark, cold recesses of her mind. Forgotten . . . for now.

It was painstakingly slow work because everything had to be absolutely perfect. She had observed and respected what a perfectionist he was. He thrived on it. She softly snickered to herself and had to catch herself before it became an all-out rambunctious laugh. He didn’t look too perfect right now, slumped behind the steering wheel of his black BMW like a deflated, tossed-aside bag of rags and bones. Another snicker escaped. She tightly clamped her gloved hand down over her mouth to stop it, to keep it from spilling forth.

When he was discovered—hopefully, within a day or two—she wanted him to appear perfect in death. That was the least she could do, because she honestly felt she owed him that much. With a gloved hand, she carefully took the typewritten note out of his jacket pocket, typed from the personal computer in his home office, and gently placed it next to him on the soft leather passenger seat of his car. Laughter escaped freely and drifted into the still air.

She took one last hopeful look at him and placed a single kiss on his left cheek. She wanted to remember him at peace. Happy. So handsome. She sighed before she carefully closed the driver’s side car door. Then she continued to wipe down any surface she might have touched that bore her prints. She was patient as perspiration dotted her forehead. From her experiences, she knew that patience was a virtue.

She dreamily thought, We could have been so deliriously happy together. They always fucked things up. Always. She hadn’t met a man yet who didn’t. It was never a matter of if, but when. If only he hadn’t started to question or doubt her because of that damn movie, Diary of a Stalker, which had been released a month earlier and was a blockbuster success. Everyone was talking about it; already there was talk of Oscar nominations for best actress and best actor. She couldn’t escape it, no matter where she turned or what it signified for her.

No, you didn’t reject me and attempt to walk away, without a backward glance, she thought. How dare he? She didn’t do well with rejection. Never had. Never would. She chuckled to herself, thinking the joke was definitely on him. If he were alive, he would probably appreciate the joke as well. She had decided years ago that no one, especially not a man, would ever hurt her again. Never again. So far, she hadn’t broken her promise to herself, nor did she have any intentions to going forward.

She exited the beautiful, spacious home that screamed quiet elegance, luxury, and money. She let herself out and quietly disappeared into the night, under the cover of darkness. She craved the darkness for its mystery and power. She whistled a happy tune to herself as she walked away. No worries. No rush. She was lost in her own demented world. Enter at your own risk.

She reminisced about a man—a beautiful, tall, dark, and very sexy man with deep dimples and gorgeous teeth, a man she couldn’t wait to be reunited with. Her body craved him, and she could hardly contain her excitement and joy at just the mere thought of being in his presence again. It had been too long. As for the one in the garage, with the car engine running and the towel stuffed in the exhaust system, he had already slipped her mind, before his body was even cold and stiff. Her last thoughts of him were that when they found him, she hoped he would look perfect. She knew he would want it that way. After all, that was the least she could do. She hummed a lively tune and strolled off into the darkness.

Labels: , , , , ,

Thursday, July 07, 2011

Send your essay (Aha Moment) for inclusion in non-fiction book by Electa Rome Parks!!


My road traveled to becoming a mature, wiser woman has been an amazing journey consisting of glorious up and devastating downs, and everything in between, which still continues to this day. Life really is a journey, not a destination.


I firmly believe it takes a village to raise a child. Wouldn’t it have been great if when you were a child, someone had shared their life lessons with you? Gave you a blueprint so to speak? Made your journey through this maze called life a bit easier?

Well, that’s what I would like to compile, a sharing of life lessons in non-fiction form for our young women. I intend to interview at least 100 women, age 21 and older, who are willing to share for publication, an “AHA moment” in life.

If interested in being interviewed, via an essay submission, please contact me at novelideal@aol.com for further details, submission guidelines and consideration. Please place “AHA MOMENT” in the subject line.

Let’s make a difference!

Peace & Blessings,

Electa

Labels: , , , ,

Tuesday, July 05, 2011

Dream Deferred


Sometimes, I sit and frantically listen
Listen to my internal, silent screammm
build, building, building
to maximum decimals
that longs to burst, stumble forth
to be set free

Disappointment, yes
Despair, maybe
Defeat, never

Can you hear it too?
Listen closely
The urgent wailings
tortured groans,
moans
Listen carefully
to my internal, silent scream that screeches and scratches
so loudly that I'm completely numb inside

Numb from dreaming, scheming and screaming
while grasping, clawing for the stars
and beyond
Numb from an internal longing,
a desire so strong
so deep
so organic
so real
so true

To be heard
to have a strong, vibrant voice
not just any voice that blends in with all the rest
to make a big difference in a small way
to be a legend, innovator
to leave a legacy
to be immortal

Sometimes, I sit and silently cringe
Cringe at the invisible ache and puppet strings
that stir and pull my soul
from a deep, guttural place within
This way and that
Bursting free
No rest
No peace

Unable to live and foster my dream
Unacceptable
External forces beyond my control
dream dashers
powers that be
no respect, saturation
diminishing my passion

Inside, my spirit dies piece by piece
like rotting meat
bit by bit
little by little
Each and every day

From the words of Langston Hughes
What happens to a dream deferred?
Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load

Or does it explode?

Labels: , , , ,

Friday, June 24, 2011

I Will Not Be Triumphed Over

The power of words has always been my salvation. In my darkest, most daunting moments, when I've felt I couldn't go on, they've purged, cleansed and restored my soul. Even as a child, at some level I understood this and basked in their beauty and strength.

In one of my most recent, more frequent pity party moments, I read the following:

"I will not be triumphed over."             

Wow! That spoke to me. Spoke to me from an ancient place of memory from generations and generations gone by. I am unbreakable, unbendable, unstoppable...no one, no thing, no situation, nobody is going to tear me down. Life may attempt to strip me down, stomp me down, wear me out, make me doubt myself, throw me curves, kick me to the curb, but in the end, I'll still rise. I will not be triumphed over. 

When I read those words, I immediately felt a heavy weight rise from my shoulders. I was at peace with my life, my situation, my predicament, my moment. Sure, I could, I really could, wallow in righteous self pity because life hasn't treated me like a favorite child recently. I'm in the midst of a storm, in the eye of a fierce storm that has bombarded me with residue from a layoff and a chain of unfortunate events that come at me blindly, from left and right. Yes, I could easily spiral into an empty pit of despair. I could curl up and give up.

Digesting that quote made me realize, I've survived worse---the death of my mother and sister being top on the list. I've been down before, but God always has my back. With age, I've come to realize that typically when one door closes, another opens right on time. We just have to remember to stop staring at the closed door in order to clearly see the one which has opened. The universe always makes a way for us.

No, I refuse to be triumphed over when my spirit is too strong to stay down and out. Do you hear me? My spirit, my resilience is too mighty. I have my doubts and worries like anyone else, I'm human, but when the dust settles and I'm in my quiet space, I hear the whispers, loud and clear, speaking to me from a place of wisdom. And I listen.

God has never and will never forsake me. And with that knowledge, I can loudly and mightily proclaim: I will not be triumphed over.

Amen. Amen. Amen.


Labels: , , , , , ,

Wednesday, May 25, 2011

The Oprah Winfrey Show---the end of an era


This isn’t about a gift-giving ceremony, Oprah explains. "There will be no guests, no surprises, you will not be getting a car. This last hour is about me saying thank you, it is my love letter to you. I want to leave you all with the lessons that anchor my life. Everyday that I stood here I knew that this was exactly where I was supposed to be. There was many a day I came to work tired, but I showed up because I knew that you were waiting, you were waiting for whatever we had to offer. That’s why I never missed a day in 25 years."


After 25 years of being on the air, The Oprah Winfrey Show, broadcast it's last show today.

To be honest, I'm not quite sure how I feel about that.

Perhaps, bittersweet.

Sure, I had heard the news months ago about the last show airing on May 25th. I absent-mindedly watched the commercials showing the countdown.

I thought to myself, "Oh, how nice. They are really making this an event."

Then it was May and the date crept closer and closer. A funny feeling that I couldn't explain settled in the pit of my stomach and I found myself paying closer attention. After all, this was the woman who was on the TV set in my living room, five days out of the week. . . for 25 years.

Once again, I thought to myself, "I need to watch a few shows for old times sake."

Finally news broke that there were going to be two, not one, final show.

As I reflected, I thought, "Wow, this is a big deal."

And then today---it finally happened. The final show of Oprah Winfrey aired. And to my surprise, I was sad as I made my way down memory lane. Oprah's final show reminded me of the favorite and beloved relative who you think will always be around and you tend to take them for granted. And then....something tragic happens, maybe they die or go far away.

It's at that moment, maybe an "aha moment" when you realize how much they meant to you. Bittersweet memories set in, exactly like what happened to me today. You feel a desire to tell them how they've made a difference in your life and how much you appreciate them.

As I found myself becoming nostalgic, I realized regardless of whether you love or hate Oprah, I for one love her ( I guess you can tell), you can't negate her effect on American culture. No one can take that away from her. She grew from a talk show host to an American pop icon.

Oprah showed the world that a poor, black girl from rural Mississippi could grow up and become the first, black female billionaire and one of the most influential and powerful women in the country.

Oprah crossed color boundaries and became everyone's best girlfriend. Admit it, everyone wanted to be like Gayle and be Oprah's BFF.

When Oprah spoke, people listened. What a brand she manufactured of herself. Her stamp of approval guaranteed a person, business or product, instant, overnight success. Just ask Dr. Phil, Suzie Orman, Dr. Oz and others. Powerful.

Oprah changed publishing as we know it today. Suddenly, it was cool to be in a book club and to actually read and discuss books. And as an author, I knew exactly what it meant to have your book chosen as her Book Club Pick....it meant becoming a New York Times bestselling author overnight. Oprah validated you to America and America trusted Oprah.

Oprah taught us the difference between being religious and being spiritual. "I know I’ve never been alone, and you haven’t either. That presence, that flow, some people call it grace, it’s working in my life at every single turn. It’s yours for the asking." Oprah added, "God is love and God is life. And your life is always speaking to you, first in whispers."

And who else but Oprah would give an entire studio audience cars? No one will ever forget, "You get a car! You get a car! And you get a car!" We can't begin to elaborate on what Oprah has done on an international basis as well, giving of her time, money...building schools.

We laughed with her, cried tears of sorrow and happiness, kept journals recording our thoughts, experiences and feelings, embraced the power of women, all women, had our "aha moments", learned of our power within, bought our "favorite things" and learned many, countless life lessons over her 25 year reign.

A rare era has ended. No one will EVER replace Oprah. We've witnessed a rare occurrence in our lives. We have Oprah, Obama in the White House, a black first lady, Michelle, along with her mother and beautiful daughters....all making us proud.

As I reminisce, I realize I literary grew up with Oprah. I went from a young woman to a middle aged woman over the course of those years. I guess I never expected her to go away. She was such a staple in my home. I've learned so many lessons about life, love, relationships, people in general, the world and basically how I see myself. At the end of the day, we are all the same, no matter the race, sex, nationality---we want the same for our families, for our children. And none of us are perfect---life is a constant struggle to be the best we can be, live our best lives and serve others. We are all just trying to get it right, one day at a time.

I'll miss Oprah much like I'd miss a beloved relative. I know this isn't the end, only the beginning of even greater things to come. Even as she ended her show, she still had words of wisdom to instill.

Oprah says the lesson she wants everyone to get from this show is to know "what sparks the light in you so that you in your own way can illuminate the world. I didn’t even imagine that the show would have the depth and the reach that (it has now). ... Wherever you are, that’s your stage, your circle of influence. That’s your talk show, that’s where your power lies. … You have the power to change somebody’s life. Everyone has a calling, and your real job in life is to figure out what that is and get about the business of doing it."

As she said her final goodbyes, "I won't say good-bye, I'll just say, until we meet again. To God be the glory."  Once again I thought, "Oprah is a true class act. Bravo."

And then the screen faded to black.



Labels: , , ,

Wednesday, May 04, 2011

Confessions from a Soon-To-Be Empty Nester



"For over 2 decades my #1 pursuit was raising my children well,
and now the job is over,
and here I stand like a high-level,
high stress but low paid CEO
who's company just got bought out!"

In the not too far distant future, I will enter the realm of empty nester. And to be honest, I'm not too sure how I feel about that.

If you ask my husband, sure, he is ready to have the house to ourselves again. If you ask my acquaintances who have gone through this phase of their lives, it's wonderful. Enjoy it.

I'm still not convinced.

My son, Brandon, is a rising senior in high school and my daughter, Briana, is a rising junior in high school. So, they will leave to pursue a collegiate education in the very near future, and in back to back events. I won't have the opportunity to get use to one being gone before the other leaves.

Over the years, my children and I have had a great relationship; I can't even complain about the teenage years. I've always spent a lot of time with them and have always nurtured their interest, exposed them to new things and supported their endeavors, as most parents do. I've always tried to respect them as the individual and unique young people that they are. If I must say so myself, my children are good kids. They have good heads on their shoulders and will make intelligent decisions as they explore the next chapter of their lives as they "become" and fulfill their destiny.

So, what's the problem you ask?

To be honest, I'm not sure myself. Yes, I will miss them dearly. Yes, my buddies will be away at college, hopefully not too far, but not too close either. Yes, the house will feel empty without them, without the constant activity and chatter. Yes, they are moving on to the next phase of their lives and they will probably make some mistakes. Yes, they will become productive citizens of the world. And yes, I know they will make us proud.

I will forever cherish their early years: the first day of school, purchasing school supplies, buying the cartoon-character Valentine Day cards, picking the perfect Halloween costumes, waking up on Xmas morning, attending ballet, tap, jazz, basketball practices and games, cheering at cross country events, karate lessons, smiling as they recited Easter and Xmas speeches, attending school functions where they received awards, recited poems, and the list goes on and on and on. Great memories, great times...

I think the moving on means I have to enter the next phase of my life as well.

For so long, my identity has been one of wife, mother and author...I'll feel lost without wearing the title of hands on mom. True, I know I will always be their mom, but I must learn to function at a different level.

Change is good, right? Of course it is. The only thing that is constant is change. Now, I will have more time to spend with my husband, more time to focus on writing, more time to focus on me and me time.

A soon-to-be empty nester---that's me. That's my new title.
A title I will eventually wear with pride because I realize I have done the best I can in raising my children. My job is done.

I won't embrace it like a glove, but I'm sure in time, I will accept it. I have no choice.

For the parents who have little ones, my words of advice is to enjoy them, love them, hold them close...because the years fly by so quickly and one day you wake up and they are young men and women.

That's the beauty of life....it's forever changing and evolving, just ripe for new memories and experiences.

Labels: , , , ,