Welcome to the World of Electa Rome Parks

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

2012-01-17T23:17:00.001-05:00

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.

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

2011-07-07T11:34:00.008-04:00

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

Dream Deferred

2011-07-05T19:46:00.000-04:00

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?

I Will Not Be Triumphed Over

2011-06-24T22:54:00.001-04:00

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.

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

2011-05-25T20:15:00.004-04:00

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.

Confessions from a Soon-To-Be Empty Nester

2011-05-04T20:13:00.003-04:00

"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.

Women Rock

2011-03-31T23:12:00.003-04:00

Women Rock!

If I had the opportunity to live my life over, I would like to come back as a woman, again, without hesitation. That's a fact. I adore being a woman and all that entails. Phenomenal Woman by Maya Angelou sums it up beautifully.

It's the fire in my eyes,
And the flash of my teeth,
The swing in my waist,
And the joy in my feet.
I'm a woman

I think women are the most powerful, special and divine creatures on earth and some of the best and most meaningful times of my life have been spent in the company of my sisterfriends.

There is nothing quite like the society of womanhood that nurtures, protects, grooms and loves with so much passion and distinction. I am who I am and what I am today because of life lessons learned at the knees of my mother, aunts and female cousins. I am a strong, resilient, independent and self-sufficient woman because of them. I pray that someday someone will be able to say the same of me.

Over the years, I have developed friendships with a small number of girlfriends that will last a lifetime. I love them like a sister and they love me back even when we get on each other's nerves. However, that's the beauty of it all. They have been there for me through thick and thin, flowing tears of joy and sadness, wonderful triumphs and devastating tragedy. My best girlfriends have comforted me during the death of my mother, celebrated my marriage and rejoiced in the birth of my children. There is so much history and that means everything to me...they know me as well as I know myself.

Girl talk over the phone that lasts for hours, unbridled laughter and gossip over drinks and dinner, making a six-hour road trip just because I asked, checking in on me when I'm not feeling well, supporting my dreams as if they are their own. There is truly something spectacular that encompasses a genuine circle of women. There is magic and power in their midst that rises up and transforms.

Not too long ago, I recall reading a short passage via the Internet; someone forwarded it to me. It focused on advice an elderly grandmother gave to her only granddaughter the night before her big wedding. She calmly and cautiously told her granddaughter no matter what happened in life, never let go of her friends. The young, soon to be bride reflected on how much she adored her future husband and how she couldn't wait to have his children; he was all she needed in her life. Then the grandmother wisely explained: Husbands may come and go, children grow up and take on lives of their own, but friendship, true friendship, is everlasting. Cling to it.

Sure enough, years later, the granddaughter and her husband had divorced, the children had graduated from college with careers and families of their own, but the granddaughter had adhered to her grandmother's advice and clung to her friends. They, her friends, were still there through it all.

I'll say it again, women absolutely rock!

Carpe Diem --- Seize the Day

2011-03-25T22:36:00.000-04:00

Carpe Diem

Tomorrow isn't promised.

I'm a bit sad right now. Have been for a few days.

And that's okay.

There will be times during our lifetimes when our spirits are in need of uplifting. We can't be upbeat all the time. Living comes with its ups and...downs.

Sometimes your life can be changed in the blink of an eye by an event that takes place.

That's all it takes...

Amazing.

To look up with a totally different set of eyes and perspective on life.

Life is precious. So short. You can be here today and gone tomorrow with the snap of your fingers.

Events can transform you. For good or bad.

Then questions start to haunt your mind.

1) Am I living life to the fullest?

2)Am I following my calling?

3)Is this it?

We can only pray that our living will not be in vain. I know I pray that when I take my final breath, I will have made a difference.

Big or small.

But make a difference. Leave the world a better place than the way you entered it.

I pray that at the end, God will say, "Well done."

Why Do I Torture Myself?

2011-03-15T21:22:00.000-04:00

I want to share this with you guys; I found it while surfing the net (and no, I don’t have anything else to do with my time. LOL) It is a piece I wrote circa 2001, 10 years ago when I was still a self-published author (well, actually I was POD, not even self-published yet). My vision still remains the same, which is very validating for me.

Why Do I Torture Myself?

Why do I torture myself? That's a question I've asked myself dozens of times over the last few months. I still haven't come up with a rational, logical answer; only an answer that I feel from the heart. You see, I'm a writer. That's a term, that until recently, I felt uncomfortable calling myself, but it's starting to feel more and more like a warm, cozy blanket on a cold, rainy day. The term writer embraces me and defines me as no other word has in the past.

I love to write; always have, always will. Writing takes me on journeys that I've never imagined before. Writing clears up all the clutter from everyday living. It's an amazing, powerful feeling to start with a word, then a sentence, and then to eventually create these wonderful, intriguing, fictitious characters that come to life on a piece of paper right before my eyes. I never know where I'm taking them or where there are taking me. These characters are figments of my imagination that readers embrace, be it to love them or hate them, as their own. Amazing.

I have an intimate love affair with the feel of crisp paper, colorful pens and a sturdy keyboard against my fingertips. I'm in heaven! I love the sound the keyboard makes as I type out my feelings and thoughts, word by word, page by page. Yeah, the power of words is awesome. Words can form opinions, change your attitude, make you happy, make you laugh when you want to cry. . . change your entire life.

I discovered this power at a very early age and it's never left me. I still remember the first time I read Terry McMillan's Disappearing Acts; I savored every page with a smile on my face and suffered heartfelt sadness as it ended. Yes, I appreciate and embrace the power of the written word. So, why do I torture myself? I do it because every time I think this self-publishing journey is too hard, or too competitive, or too expensive, or too this or too that. . . a little voice in the back of my head whispers for me to keep on keeping on. I have this strong, burning desire to be heard. I have stories to tell. It's that simple. That's my purpose in life.

No, I admit, my stories are not great pieces of literary work, I'll leave that to Toni Morrison, and I'm not trying to write the All American novel, but I have great stories to tell and fascinating stories to be heard. My wish is that I'm entertaining avid readers and maybe letting them take a look at themselves, a sister, a brother, an aunt. They can relate. They feel something if only for 200 pages. I'm taking them on a mini-vacation. And maybe, just maybe, by the time they have read the last page. . . they will take something positive away as well.

Yes, I'm a writer! I can scream that with pride and confidence because God has given me a measure of talent that I should utilize. Why do I torment myself? Because I have no choice when my inner voice is pushing me to follow my dream and to walk out on faith. With hard work, determination and drive, my voice can be heard as well. I have stories to tell.

Electa Rome Parks
Author of The Ties That Bind

Note: Electa Rome Parks published "The Ties That Bind" in May, 2001. It can be purchased through Bookamillion.com, Xlibris.com bookstore and Amazon.com. Email address: novelideal@aol.com

Ode to Writing

2011-03-04T22:36:00.004-05:00

I think I've loved you since the first time we met.

There was just something about you that spoke to me, spoke to me with a passion and genuine honesty like never before. When I was in your presence, I realized my full potential, my destiny and became whole.

To this day, when I'm with you, I come alive. I burn with the fervor of a woman possessed. I can't get enough of you. Just the thought of being with you, makes my body ache and burn with desire.

You complete me. I know, I realize that's a very strong statement. But it's true, you make me whole. I couldn't imagine life without you. You're my beginning and end. My alpha and omega.

You're the keeper of my secrets and desires. You share my dreams as if they were your own. You delight in my triumphs. And my failures and hurt, you ease the pain with the stroke of a pen. You embrace me in loving arms with your magic and power.

When I become one with you, I feel...

Unstoppable
Superhuman
Alive
Immortal

In the deepest throes of my pain, just the thought of being without you, of not having you in my life. . . makes me so unbelievably sad. I can't phantom life without you. I need you. I desire you and I cling to you so desperately. Can't you see that?

We've had our ups and downs. I guess that's just part of life, part of every relationship. But I can't continue to live like this. Not knowing if you love me back. I think you do, but sometimes I'm not so sure. I shouldn't have to struggle and back pedal and take three steps forward to take one back. I shouldn't have to hustle every day of my life to prove my alliance. Don't tease me and make me work so hard to prove my love. I've shown you over and over again. I think I love you much more than you love me.

I realize I need you much more than you'll ever need me. I accept that fact that you have other friends in your life that love you just as much as I do. I'm willing to share as long as you will commit to me when you're with me. I adore you. Can't you see that? You are so beautiful. Only you can awaken my soul and create magic all around. I'm totally sprung.

I don't want to sound desperate and lonely, but I can't lose you, not now, not ever. I need you in my life like I need air to breath, eyes to see. You nourish my soul, my very being. I don't think I could go on without you. Does this give you pleasure? Pleasure that you have so much power over me?

Please try to understand. I can't, I will not, go on without you. Knowing I'd do almost anything to keep you in my life makes me take a good, hard look at myself. What type of woman am I?

How damaged I must be since I can't survive without you?

How desperate I must be to beg you to never leave me?

How deranged I must sound to love you even if you sometimes don't love me back?

See, I've loved you since the first time we met. And no matter what, I can't live without you.

On the Road Again

2011-02-22T20:05:00.004-05:00

On the Road Again

Goin' places that I've never been

Seein' things that I may never see again

And I can't wait to get on the road again

As a toddler, it was common knowledge that my son, Brandon would fall asleep within minutes of riding in a car, any car. There was just something about the calmness, coziness and comfort of riding in the back seat that lulled him to sleep no matter how rambunctious he was minutes earlier.

Brandon would courageously fight against it, but with heavy, drooping eyelids betraying him, within minutes he would give in to the pull of heavenly sleep.

My son inherited this condition honestly. Look at his mama.

I don't fall asleep when I ride in a car or heaven forbid, when I'm behind the steering wheel. However, early on in my life, I made a fascinating discovery. I do my best thinking, dreaming, reflecting and decision making when I'm driving, especially long distance drives on the open freeway. I've always adored driving. Long distance driving doesn't bother me as it does some people. In fact, I long for those trips. When I was younger and carefree, it was common for me and a group of friends to scream out, "Road trip." And off we went, as far as our short money would take us.

I could clearly relate to parts of the movie, Thelma and Louise, because I identified with how getting away makes situations appear much clearer. I wouldn't have taken such drastic steps, but clearly by the end of the movie, they knew exactly what and who they were. And they knew they couldn't go back to the life they had left behind.

This past weekend I had the opportunity to travel to Jacksonville, FL, to visit a book club. I drove the 5 and a half hours distance from Atlanta. There is no other feeling like taking to the open road, alone with yourself. So, if you don't like yourself. . . oh well, now that's a problem. I've never been one to need a crowd around all the time; personally, I prefer my own company. So, I was as happy as a fat kid in an ice cream shop.

I turned off the radio, let down my car windows, sipped on my ice cold Cola Cola, ate my barbecue chips and leisurely cruised the miles away, small town by small town. Being alone with your thoughts is a wonderful thing. It's a feeling I relish because it is so rare for me. I think some people are afraid of being alone with themselves. Myself, I delight in it.

My drive was very therapeutic and I resolved some issues that were bothering me and were unclear at the time. During the course of my drive, by simply being able to listen, really listen to my spirit, some important decisions were made and closure was finally surrendered on others.

My senses were wide open and all over the place. The drive along 75S is by no means an exciting ride unless you enjoy passing through city after city declaring themselves the peach city, the pecan city, the magnolia city, seeing a giant peanut, signs for adult sex stores, billboards for miles and miles directing you to pull over and buy Georgia pecans or the one about thousands of books, all for only $3 each. I was tempted to pull off the exit to check out the books for $3, but I've also seen too many horror flicks that focus on road trips and horrible things that happen to the lone female. Same reason I don't stop at rest stops. . . but I digress.

At the time, that drive was exactly what I needed, excitement or not.

I saw, smelled, listened and embraced everything within my sight, all within the confines of my medium-size car. After making some overdue decisions, shortly afterwards, I passed a rural church sitting back off the interstate, in a country field of wild flowers of every color under the rainbow. At first I thought I was imagining things, even as I slowed to a crawl to observe it, because in it's simple, rustic appeal, it didn't seem real. It reminded me of a painting. A small country, white church with a steeple in the shape of a large white cross. It set quiet, strong, and defiant. It took it as a sign from God that I had indeed made the right decisions.

There is nothing like getting in touch with your spirit---away from the daily grind and distractions that clog and clutter our inner voice. Open the sunroof, let down the windows and hit the open road in search of your truths. It works for me. So. . .

Get your motor runnin'

Head out on the highway

Lookin' for adventure

And whatever comes our way

Making a Difference

2011-02-15T22:33:00.001-05:00

"Congratulations on your Black Expressions Feature!"

Have you ever heard the expression that the smallest gesture can make the biggest impression? It is definitely true. You never know what a smile or simple gesture will do for a person. It could make all the difference in their world.

Currently, I'm going through my manic-depressive state (I'm just kidding people; I'm not really a manic-depressive person. I do not want to get any rumors started. No, Pilar from Diary of a Stalker isn't based on me):) My self-imposed label stems from a private joke my friends and I share. And I certainly understand the serious nature of the disease and do not mean to make light of it in any shape, form or fashion. However, I tend to have periods of great moods and then suddenly, I become "Miss Moody, Leave Me the Hell Alone." Lately, I haven't been functioning at my best from a professional standpoint.

Ask any author, we all have our extreme highs and low lows. We pray that the highs outweigh the lows. In my case, the lows have lasted a little longer lately. For those of you who follow me, you know that I have shed some tears, vented about "woe with me, poor me". . . how I'm not at the level I'd like to be. . . how I'm sick and tired of being sick and tired of the politics and changes of this industry. . . how I'm burnt out with the constant hustle of marketing and promoting. . . how I'm fed up with people who present themselves as your friend, but who really aren't. . . how you have to always keep your name in the forefront. . . how you always have to wear a thick skin. . . I vent about the cliques, the constant struggles and the pretentiousness. I vent about the store closings. . . I vent, vent, vent.

Then I take to my bed and simply sleep my troubles away. That's how I deal with stress. Covers over my head and blessed sleep. I have a straight out fabulous pity party and invite anyone and everyone to attend. You are courtesy invited to my "Life Sucks and Then We Die Party." Come as you are because no one really cares or gives a fuck.

I'm usually positive and upbeat, I thrive on that (I'm the affirmations queen), but sometimes life brings me the blues like anyone else. Reality is: Sometimes you simply can't make lemonade out of lemons. Sometimes if it smells like bs, looks like bs, then guess what, it is probably bs. Eventually I pray about the situation, count my many blessings, try not to sweat the small stuff which seems large gigantic stuff at that time, pick myself up, dust off my wounded ego and move on. After all, life doesn't stop for my woes. And who am I kidding? I couldn't and wouldn't give up writing any more than I could give up breathing.After all, writing is my connection and lifeline to the world. I don't want to lose that and be placed on life support. Writing makes up some of the best parts of who I am. And the majority of the time, I like, hell I love, who that person is.

But, I digress. . .

In the midst of my pity party, in the eye of the storm, imagine my surprise and delight when I received a simple text from an "A" list, New York Times bestselling, fierce author congratulating me on the accomplishment of the Black Expressions feature. I will not mention any names, but I thought that was such a grand, classy gesture. The author did not have to take the time, energy or a minute out of her day to send me that text. Just the fact that she did---took a moment out of her busy schedule (I know for a fact she was trying to meet a book deadline), made all the difference in the world. It was even more special because I personally admire her talent, success and beauty, both outside and within. I've followed her career from day one and marvel at her successes and humbleness.

Her simple gesture placed a smile on my face for the remainder of the day and she probably doesn't even realize it. But that's what it's all about, touching lives and not expecting anything in return. However, as are the laws of the universe, when you give unselfishly, eventually you do receive.

And just like that. . . that simple gesture successfully lifted me out of my funk and inspired me to keep on keeping on. People are taking notice of my hard work, dedication and passion for what I do. That is the one thing that is in my control. . . to keep the fire that burns deep within, alive. . . one word at a time.

"To often we underestimate the power of a touch, a smile, a kind word. . . when I awake I know I have one more day to make a difference in someone's life." ---author unknown

Enjoy Every Moment

2011-01-14T20:28:00.001-05:00

Enjoy Every Moment

Take a moment and tell me what part of this scenario doesn't quite fit.

I was watching The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills and crying.

Yes, crying. You read this correctly.

Most of us know for an absolute fact that an episode from any of the The Real Housewives franchise means pettiness, craziness and drama, drama, drama. An emotional moment is not usually part of the equation.

My emotional outburst and tears surprised even me.

Yes, I am an emotional person. Yes, I cry at sappy movies. Yes, I will cry from watching the evening news. But not from watching The Real Housewives.

I was watching the episode, the one right before the season finale. This is the episode where Kyle's oldest child/oldest daughter, Farrah, graduates from college. There were several touching moments that spoke from somewhere deep within and tugged at my heartstrings because I could relate at a maternal level.

I have a daughter, Briana, who's fifteen years old. She is full of life, always has a smile and a hug to offer to those around her. She keeps our family full of laughter. Saying “I love you” is a part of her every day lingo. Kisses follow. Plain and simple, Briana is a happy child. She’s a mini me.

During the celebratory lunch in honor of Farrah, with family and friends surrounding her, Kyle makes an emotionally-laced speech. My tears started to flow. At that point I realized, no matter how rich or poor, no matter what race or ethnicity, country or culture, there is a bond between mother and daughter that is powerful stuff.

With tears and a shaky voice, Kyle speaks of her love for her daughter, and there is no denying that, and how she has been blessed from the day she was born. She is so proud at the way her daughter turned out and the person she has always been. Let me repeat that. . . always been. Kyle triumphantly proclaimed she had waited for this moment for twenty-one years. In that moment, Kyle and I connected because I knew exactly what she meant and the emotions she was experiencing.

More tears flowed, from me.

And, I know that my moment is just around the corner; the moment when my daughter will go off to make her place in the world. This same daughter who told me many years ago: “I’m so happy that out of all the mommies in the world, God chose you for me. I love you Mommy!”

It’s true. Daughters are made of sugar and spice and everything nice. My daughter is only fifteen years old, but she has been the joy of my life, along with her brother, Brandon. They have taught me the true meaning of love, unconditional love, and motherhood and sacrifice and a willingness to lay down my life for another person, if need be. I can be a fierce tigress when defending my precious clubs. When they hurt, I hurt. When they are happy, I bask in their joy. Their triumphs are my victories.

I pray for them. I pray for greatness from them.

I could not picture life without them. My children make me proud every moment of my life. And because of them, I am a better person. I have enough wonderful memories of them growing up to last a lifetime. I smile in reflection. My only regret is that my mother never had the opportunity to get to know the wonderful people they are. My gifts.

Children grow up so fast. I will never forget, years ago, a complete stranger approached us in a store, maybe Sears. Brandon and Briana were smaller then and my husband and I were carrying them in our arms. He had Brandon and I had Briana. The middle-aged white male smiled and told us to always kiss them, hold them tight, and enjoy every moment because after age twelve, the years zoom by, in the blink of an eye. How true he was.

Enjoy every moment.

And I Want it Right Now

2011-01-07T23:14:00.002-05:00

"Dear God, I pray for patience. And I want it right now!"

I'm impatient.

Impatient to a fault.

I want what I want when I want it. And I want it yesterday.

And you all know the world doesn't stop in mid-orbit to cater to my whims. So, lots of times, hell, many times, I find myself highly frustrated and spasming out because it takes everything in me to contain myself. Oh, I'm also a little bit spoiled.

That's not good.

But, I gave up kiddng myself that I would work on it years ago. Who was I kidding? I'll go to my grave with an air of impatience dangling in my midst. In fact, in death, I'll probably be wondering why it's taking my family so long to bury me ( or cremate, haven't decided which). And then I'll be complaining because it's taking the heavenly angels too long to open the pearly gates and let me enter. Later, I'll spasm out because I'm tired of waiting in line to speak with God. Why can't my name be moved up the list to the VIP session? I would want express service. LOL.

Sometimes, we have a rare opportunity to learn a life lesson played out in a very public manner and with a very unlikely character. A life lesson came the other day, in the form of Ted Williams, the homeless man with the golden voice. No one can tell me that wasn't God's intervention.

After sinking to his lowest since succumbing to issues dealing with drugs, alcohol and unemployment, Ted Williams had been homeless for over a decade . The unemployment came after losing the battle with the drugs and alcohol. Yet, people who have now been interviewed, remembering him from his days on the streets of Ohio, all say he is a kind and gentle man. . . with the gift of voice. Even with the harsh, daily reality of living on the streets and realizing how far he had sunk, Ted never lost his spirit nor his gift. Amazing.

Fast forward or maybe even play it forward, an angel in the form of a newspaper reporter, records and videos Ted speaking and millions of hits later on the Internet --- the rest is history. A viral success.

What is amazing is that through all Ted's struggles and challenges of making a life on the streets, God protected his voice until it was his time. If that isn't a testimony, then I don't know what is. We may go through up and downs in life --- because that is life. However, when it is our time, there is no one or any thing or any situation that can stop us from living up to God's greatness and special plan for us. No weapons formed against us, no naysayers, no haters, no dream dashers, no pessimist, no one can stop it. No one. It's all in divine time and divine order. Isn't that comforting to know?

Next time I complain about what hasn't happened in my life, in my time frame, I'll think of Ted Williams and the wonderful, supernatural miracles that can happen if we leave it up to God's timeline. God has our back.

It didn't escape my attention that even though Ted was homeless, that didn't stop him from telling anyone who would listen what gift God had bestowed upon him and if they allowed him, he showed them too in a rich, articulate, golden, perfect, flawless voice. Praise his name.

Skeptics are always saying that they haven't seen any miracles during our lifetimes. Ain't no people being risen from the death or a few fish and loaves of bread transformed to feed many. I say, miracles are absolutely out there. We have to see them for what they are. We also have to open our eyes and our hearts. To go from homelessness, and three days later you are cruising the media circuit, inspiring people, moving people to tears and receiving multiple job offers and a house---that's a miracle. Just ask Ted Williams.

If that isn't a perfect example of God working supernatural goodness in someone's life than I don't know what is.

God is good.

A Toast to a New Year!

2011-01-05T21:30:00.001-05:00

Another year. A new beginning.

Happy New Year! It's 2011. Can you believe it? My, time does fly. . . For as long as I can remember, I've always loved celebrating the start of a new year. For me, a new year symbolizes starting over with a fresh, clean slate. . . another chance to make right the wrongs of the previous year. For me, a new year is like being given the gift of a new beginning.

I stopped making new year resolutions years ago because, for me, they were pointless. Caught up in the excitement and lure of a new year, I randomly chose three areas I needed or wanted to make improvements. Mind you, these were tossed out without a clear plan in place. Usually, I was doomed bfore I even finished writing the list and typically by three months into the new year, my resolutions were totally forgotten. Nothing accomplished.

Now, I use the start of each new year to reflect on the previous year, good and bad, and to focus on obtainable improvements the following year with a logical action plan. My goal is to always end the next year in a better place: emotionally, physically, spirtually and mentally.

I strive to constantly enlighten myself as to who and what I am as a person and my place in the world. Only then can I live up to my full potential and in living up to my full potential, only then am I at the greatest level to give back and serve the greatest good. You see, I strive to strengthen and utilize the power I possess inside.

New years come and go so quickly, blink and you'll miss living. Raising my glass, lets toast to another year.Here's to love, happiness, good health, joy and prosperity---more than you can stand. Lets toast to new beginnings.

Intimate Conversation With Electa Rome Parks

2011-01-04T21:14:00.000-05:00

BPM: Tell us about your passion for writing. Why do you write? What impact do you want your book to make on the readers?

Wow! Where do I begin? There is no way to best describe it. I always jokingly state that I have a passionate love affair going on with reading and writing. Our torrid affair has consumed me for much of my life. Writing is in my blood and I can't imagine life without it. My very spirit would probably shrivel up and die if I couldn't write. Writing is my therapy. My Voice. My sincere expression of the world as seen through my eyes.

I don't write as a hustle. I write because I'm passionate about the power and beauty of words. As my children say, "That's real talk."

When I write, I am transported to another dimension. My soul feels free and at peace. Writing brings me serenity and peace like no other. When I write I feel powerful---after all, I'm creating life with the stroke of my pen or computer keys. My characters come alive on the pages of my books. And when my readers read my stories, they get to meet these incredible people, faults, imperfections and all.

What drives me? Life, the precious beauty of existing, the experience of learning something new each and every day. Joys, pains. Failures. Accomplishments. Life lessons. My children, my spouse. Observing people in their beauty and splendor and seeing the not so pretty side. Writing is my essence, my link with the world.

As far as an impact is concerned, I simply want my readers to be entertained and pulled into a world completely different, or maybe not, from their own. If a life lesson is learned during the process that makes the experience all the sweeter.

BPM: What are two major events taking place in True Confessions?

True Confessions starts off bringing the drama. Readers are introduced to Kennedy Logan in her most desperate and lowest moment in time. . . she is thinking her final thoughts after making the tragic decision to end her own life. Readers, hopefully, sense the level of despair she has reached, how low she has sunk to decide to go this route. As you read the excerpt below, you will see how painful life is for her.

Questions are immediately raised. Why? What so horrible could possibly have happened to this person?

As the story unfolds, readers have the opportunity to meet one of the major reasons life looked so bleak and hopeless to Kennedy. Enter Drake Collins, her love or ex love interest. It is soon apparent that what looks good and smells good and says the right words on the outside isn't necessarily so perfect on the inside. Drake is not as he presents himself and during the course of True Confessions, many secrets are revealed where Kennedy can say, "In hindsight the clues were all there. I just refused to see them. But love will make you do that sometimes."

BPM: What specific situation or revelation prompted you to write True Confessions?

True Confessions actually started out as a short story titled These Are My Confessions in the anthology These Are My Confessions (Harper Collins, 2007). So many readers emailed or excitedly asked me during signings about Kennedy and Drake and their back story that I decided to pen the novel length version. I've always believed in listening to my readers and taking their suggestions:).

Kennedy and Drake captured my imagination as well; they stayed with me long after the short story was published. I wanted to delve deeper into what made them "tick" and a short story didn't allow that.

As a writer, for me, it is always about what makes up the core essence of my characters. How did they become who they are? What event(s) shaped their lives? What brought them to this place in their lives when they are introduced to my readers? We are all products of our childhood and I adore piecing the puzzle together to create a likeable, sometimes not so likeable character(s) that has faults, imperfections, just like we all do.

BPM: Who do you want to reach with True Confessions and the message within?

I would like to reach the readers who have wisely figured out we are all works in progress. Can I get an amen? If we are truly honest, there are aspects of our lives that we can all work on during our journey of self exploration.

As with my previous titles (The Ties That Bind, Loose Ends, Almost Doesn't Count, Ladies' Night Out, These Are My Confessions and Diary of a Stalker), they have dealt with topical issues that are prevalent in our communities and society in general.

And True Confessions is no different. At first glance it appears to be a relationship gone bad type of storyline, but True Confessions is so much more than that. Issues of suicide, adoption, dysfunctional relationships, bond of a mother and daughter, father and daughter bonds, divorce and low self esteem issues are all addressed. Bottom line, if I had to encompass a general theme prevalent throughout the novel, all of Kennedy's problems and issues stem from feelings of low self esteem and unworthiness.

So. . . my underlying message is that just because someone appears to have it all together doesn't mean they actually do. Kennedy and Drake were prime examples each in their own way. Before we can receive love or give love, we have to love ourselves first. Kennedy and Drake didn't love themselves and it showed up in various aspects of their personalities and life.

BPM: What is your most valuable lesson about the publishing industry?

A few years ago I came into the industry with rose colored glasses. Lets just say, I no longer wear those glasses. A lot of my illusions have been lifted at this point in the game. However, my most valuable lesson about the publishing industry is that it is a business first and foremost. The bottom line, the dollar bill, still takes credence over talent and creativity. Even though I was a business major in college and realized this at some level, I naively thought considerations would be adhered to based on a level of talent.

Black Pearls Readers, to find out when and where Electa will be in your area, check out her website at www.electaromeparks.com

True Confessions

2011-01-04T21:05:00.000-05:00

Prologue

My reality is surreal and happens in super, slow motion. A nervous giggle escapes my chapped, dry and parched lips. I lick them to restore moisture. Then, there is utter, deadly silence. If I listen closely, I can hear my heartbeat beating away at an accelerated pace. My senses are heightened and I marvel over the brilliant, bold colors of my bedroom as I inhale my favorite fragrances, from their spot on my antique dresser, colliding into one another with their potent allure. Even my sense of touch is different somehow. Everything is magnified to the nth degree. It’s like I’m looking down at myself from a huge movie screen with surround sound as I ready myself for the big finale---the final shot and then fade to black.

I’ve never been good at saying goodbye, even on short, weekend trips. I keep the handwritten note short and sweet and pray to God that mother will understand, and hopefully, one day, forgive me.

I don’t mean to hurt her or cause her any fresh pain. I sincerely don't. I hope she understands that this isn't her fault, that I love her with all my heart and being. No matter what, that fact will never change. I’m so thankful and forever grateful that she chose me to be her daughter out of all the orphaned babies in the world. She chose me. I told myself over and over again that that made me special. I needed to feel special instead of unwanted and discarded.

I’ll miss mother the most, but the hurt I feel inside is too unbearable and indescribable. It is too painful for me to continue, day in and day out, with just a hollow emptiness that erodes and corrupts any happiness that briefly surfaces. The dawn of each new day only brings me more heartache and renewed memories. Some memories are like leeches. They latch on for dear life and slowly, ever so slowly, suck and drain all the blood, all the living out of you. You are left with just a shell of the old you and that's no way to survive. Not for me, anyway.

When they find me, I want it to look like I’m sleeping, peacefully. Just like Sleeping Beauty who only needed a handsome prince to kiss her and awaken her from the darkness that engulfed her. However, for me, there won't be a handsome, charming prince to wake me, save me, and ride off into eternity. All my so-called princes were monsters in disguise with their own hidden agendas that attempted to crush and stamp out my self-esteem. Yes, just blessed sleep awaits me.

I chose pills. I couldn’t subject mother to a messy, bloody scene that comes with slitting one’s wrists or shooting one's self. I refuse to take my final breath with that heavy on my heart. I don't think my heart could handle anything else weighing against it. As it is, I feel like I have three hundred pounds weighing me down. Crushing the life out of me.

As I settle myself comfortably on my queen-size bed, slowly pull the red, satin comforter up to my chin and stare at the full bottle of prescription pills carefully nestled in my right hand, I can’t imagine not waking up in the morning.

What will it be like to not see the rising sun? To not hear my alarm clock going off announcing it’s time to get ready for another day of work? Not hitting snooze to give myself another fifteen minutes? Not rushing to finish my morning rituals before I dash out the door and into rush-hour traffic? What will that feel like?

More important to me now, though, is will it hurt? I hope not. I have never been able to tolerate too much pain, physical, mental or emotional. Yet, that’s what Drake has caused me for the last year of my life. Pain. Intolerable suffering.

I only wanted to love him and for him to love me in return. Simple enough. Was that asking too much? My part of the equation was accomplished, effortless. Drake claimed he loved me, but he really didn’t. Probably never could. Didn't know how to love or receive it. After what happened last week, I know he didn’t. Yet, I gave him everything: my heart, my body, my soul. Now, I have nothing left to give myself. I'm empty inside.

As tears slowly flood my weary eyes and blur my vision, I look around my cozy bedroom for the last time. Ever. It used to be one of my favorite rooms in my small two bedroom, one bath apartment. There was nothing better than lighting several fragrant candles, drinking a little white wine and cozying up with a good romance novel. Yes, that was heaven. Simple things excite me. Always have. Watching a sunrise or sunset, waking up to birds chirping in the treetops, walking hand in hand through the park with the one I love, all these things brought me great joy.

Mother will have to understand. I left her a note, propped up on the nightstand, in full view, that explains how much I love her and daddy. What will she think when she can’t reach me tonight? I would love to hear her soothing, loving voice one last time. Yet, I know I wouldn’t be able to go through with my plan if I did. I’d give away my intentions over the phone or mother would pick up on my foul mood and that would be that. I’d wake up another day with this aching, dull pain inside, tearing me apart, bit-by-bit. Pain that dulls and diminishes every ounce of my strength, all the way down to my pores.

Drake Collins. His name leaves a bitter taste on my tongue. Just the thought of him brings bile to the back of my throat. I will forever regret the day I met that man. If I could turn back the hands of time, do it all over again, I would have called in sick that day or run for the hills. I was just fine with my life the way it was. Sure, it wasn’t exciting or glamorous, but it was enough for me. Drake came with the charm, movie star looks, glitz and high drama and reeled me right in like a bass caught at sea. I gladly jumped into his net.

I say a silent prayer of forgiveness as I place one, then two colorful pills on my tongue and swallow dry. I didn't think of getting a glass of water. I can't think. The lump in my throat quickly diminishes. There’s no turning back now. Just like there was no turning back when Drake turned me out. The countdown begins. Ten, nine, eight. . . I've lived a happy life. I have tons of good memories. I've treated others the way I wanted to be treated.

I hope this happens quickly. I steadfastly place three, four pills on my tongue and swallow again. Hot tears start to spill forth and stream down my cheeks as I realize the final result of my actions. Seven, six, five. . . It’s for the best. I need to stop the pain. Will he even miss me? Or will he just move on to his next victim? Will all this be in vain?

I guess I’ll never have that family now. The one I used to daydream and write about in my journal. The family with the almost perfect mommy and daddy and two kids, a boy and girl. The boy would be the oldest, and he'd look out for and protect his younger sister. They'd have cute, adorable names and they'd know they were wanted and loved and cherished by their parents. They'd never feel unwanted.

Four, three. . . I swallow a handful of pills this time. I've lost count as to how many I've digested. As spittle escapes from my mouth, I gag. I wipe the overflow away with the back of my hand and keep right on shoving pills in my mouth until the orange-brown medicine bottle is empty. I look inside, in awe, shake the bottle, and can’t believe the pills are gone so quickly. Just like the illusion of love. If you blink, you'll miss it.

I wonder if Drake even realizes how much I loved him? Now, I wait for blessed relief and peace to take away my hurt and pain. I’m so tired. Tired of loving the wrong men. Tired of giving my all, coming up empty, and getting absolutely nothing back in return. Good sex isn’t the end all to everything. Drake taught me that lesson.

Two, one. . . It won’t be long now. I faintly smile and lay back against my down pillow. I welcome peace. In my mind, I start silently repeating Psalms 23. I shall walk through the valley of death; I shall fear no evil, for thou art with me. I’m so sleepy. I can barely keep my eyes open. I can feel myself giving in to the fog that slowly invades my mind. Maybe if I close my eyes for a few moments. Yeah, just rest them for a few minutes without seeing Drake’s face behind my heavy eyelids.

Suddenly, I feel lightheaded, like I’m floating on a big, fluffy white cloud, bouncing up and down, giddy with not a care in the world. This is a different sensation that I literally reach out my right hand to embrace and never let go of. Not a care in the world. Nothing matters but blessed, uneventful sleep. I close my tired, weary eyes as the countdown ends. Fade to black.

You Are What You Say You Are

2010-12-16T22:00:00.001-05:00

“It doesn’t matter what people call you, it only matters what you answer to.” – Madea

The above quote by actor, writer, producer, director, screenwriter Tyler Perry is powerful. And Tyler Perry is a prime example of what he believes. He has lived and walked the talk and is one of my heroes because of his amazing triumph over personal childhood setbacks and tragedies. He never gave up and always had dreams of being successful regardless of what everyone else said or believed about him otherwise. And through that belief, he has transformed into the powerhouse he is today.

If there is one life lesson I could teach young people, even some adults, it would be about the concept of mind over matter. We really are what we say we are. The universe really is a remarkable entity because what we place out there really does come back to us with a vengeance. Law of Attraction. I’ve witnessed it in my life and experienced its effects.

Make no mistake about it, there is power in our words and thoughts. The Bible speaks of it. I discovered that power early on in my life. In fact, that’s why I fell in love with words---because of their beauty, splendor and the ability to change lives. That's why I have a passionate love affair with reading and writing to this day. So why not make your words and thoughts uplifting, empowering and encouraging?

I’ve always believed in claiming what’s rightfully mine. Say it out loud. Literally speak it into existence. That sets the cycle in motion so to speak. Write it down. Post it on the bathroom mirror. Chant it over and over in your mind. You’ll be surprised at the people, places, situations and events that are placed in your life designed to fulfill your destiny. That’s the nature of the universe. Making sure you are at the right place at the right time.

So, the question is: what are you? Say it. Claim it.

Thankful to be counted amongst the living!

2010-11-26T22:33:00.000-05:00

I am a worry-wart.

I always have been and probably will remain so until the day I take my final breath. It is what it is. Ironically, I don't worry that I am a worrywart. Possessing that title has its rich rewards. For one, I'm always on my "A" game---making sure I cross all my t's and dot all my i's. There is always a Plan B in place, just in case Plan A doesn't work out.

So. . . the spill-off or residue from being a worrywart is that I'm super organized and highly efficient in most all I do. I try to retain control in all I do, as much to the degree that is possible. You guys read between the lines. Okay, I admit it, I can be picky, a control freak and a perfectionist to a fault.

Over the quickly fleeing years that pass by in the blink of an eye, as my spiritual level and maturity has grown, I have come to realize that I should always come with my "A" game, but also realize that with God all around me---guiding, leading, directing and instructing my footsteps---I can eagerly give up my title, confident in the knowledge that I'll be alright. In fact, I'll be better than alright, I will be safe, sound, happy and secure with my place in this world. He always makes a way, even during our darkest moments. When you think you can't take another step, he'll do one better and carry you.

As we move towards holidays, I pause to reflect on all the wonderful family and friends that I have in my life. I have a loving husband, children that I am very proud of, people who love and care for me with a passion, just as I am. They accept me with faults, imperfections and even when I'm in worrywart mode. Plus, I'm living my dream each and every day. I'm creating the reality of my dreams and that in itself is magic. Magic surrounds me and I bask in its glory. I have my health and my strength and my sanity. What more could I possibly ask for or need in my life?

No, my life hasn't been without struggle and hardship. I've lost so many people over the years to death in my immediate family, but I'm still standing, solid as a live oak; I've never had anything simply handed to me on a platter, I've worked hard for everything I've achieved and appreciated it even more; I've had moments of doubt and uncertainty only to be given crystal-clear clarity; I've looked at the "other side" and thought the grass was greener only to discover it wasn't, it wasn't even green, more of an imitation shade; I've asked the question, many times, "why me, Lord?" only to receive the answer, "Why not you, my child?"

In the past, I've been hurt by men because I love deeply and they didn't appreciate my true worth; hell, I've been hurt by my family, blood; even hurt by my so called best friends forever, but I still rise; I've been down, down, down, but I've also been up, so high I could almost reach the sky; I've been disillusioned to the point of despair, but I've also been inspired by the goodness of people who care; I've cried buckets of tears, but I've also rejoiced in splendor at the beauty of the human spirit.

The green-eyed monster of jealousy has visited me a few times and I've fought him off tooth and sword because I learned a long time ago to truly be happy for other's good fortune; God has your back and your day is coming. What's meant for you is truly meant for you and no one, no thing, no situation can take that away from you. I've had my moments when I took to my bed, in a state of depression, sleep as my refuge, but I always got back up stronger and resilient with a fire burning deep within my soul. I've been to the mountaintop and it is a beautiful thing, but I've also been in the valley a day short and a dollar late.

All this to say: Life can be hard. Life is full of strive and struggle. But you know what? I'm so thankful! Thankful to be counted amongst the living. I'm thankful! Thankful to have a voice, thankful to make a difference, thankful to have a platform to speak, thankful to know all I have to do is see it and believe it for it to happen.

I'm so thankful that my reality doesn't have to be my destiny. I'm so thankful that I have a fire that burns deep within. I'm so thankful that all I have to do is listen and he will speak. I'm so thankful that all I have to do is ask and then I will receive. I'm thankful God moves through me which enables me to move people.

I AM SO VERY THANKFUL! HAPPY HOLIDAYS!

Become Yourself

2010-11-08T19:51:00.001-05:00

“Ordinary, brown braided woman with big legs and full lips, become yourself.”

Wow! The first time I heard Phylicia Rashad’s character speak those words with her gravely, powerful voice that demands attention, speaking straight, no chaser, from her soul. . . from a place of knowing, from a spiritual realm in the For Colored Girls trailer. . . I literally experienced chills up and down my spine as if they were saying, pay attention. This is a lesson in life. I was speechless, mesmerized and empowered to action. Two little words.

Become yourself.

I have been trying to accomplish that task my entire life. You hear me, my whole life. That has become my subconscious quest and divine mission. Only in recent years has it become my mantra, repeating it over, again and again in my head. I embrace it with a depth and passion as my own.

I desire to be the best mother, wife, sister, daughter, aunt, friend. . . person. . . that I can be. I owe it to myself and I owe it to those around me, the ones I touch with my spirit on my path to discovery and wisdom.

Become yourself.

Something supernatural screams directly to my soul, with a mind of its own, challenging me to make a difference. A positive difference. Life is too precious to live and pass through in the blink of any eye, and nothing has changed. That is simply not acceptable. You were simply a blink when you should have been a bang. The world should be a better place simply because you were here.

Words, especially robust, passionate ones spoken from a place of wisdom, a place of knowing. . . words that speak to strength and coming into one’s rightful self. . . they wrap me cocoon-like in colorful, vibrant silks as they caress my mental palette and stroke my very soul with the possibilities. Something primal, from generations after generations gone by, remembers who I am suppose to be. And I embrace it because I recognize its power.

Become yourself.

I want to embrace my essence, live up to my fullest potential and beyond. Each year of my life, I’m changing, growing, and evolving. That’s a good thing. I’ve come to realize there is power in my words. They touch people. They make people feel. My words incite emotion. A higher power has lovingly bestowed that gift upon me and I gladly accept it and all the responsibilities that go with it. Find yourself so that you can become.

Become yourself.

What a beautiful world we would live in if we all did as much. We could create a world of miracles and harmony. A utopia. Yes, such simple words, but oh, how powerful upon closer examination, scrutiny and understanding.

I have a glorious destiny to live out, so do you. Become the beautiful spirit you were meant to be. . . you don’t have to be extraordinary, you can be ordinary, brown-braided. . . simply look within.

Become yourself.

A Lost Generation?

2010-11-08T19:37:00.001-05:00

Headline: 4 Teenage Boys Stomp and Kill a 5th teenager at Party

I literally felt sick to my stomach, bile rose to my throat and tears immediately flooded my eyes after reading that headline and the horrific details that followed.

A promising eighteen-year-old life was senselessly taken at a metro Atlanta party Saturday night. The young man was enjoying his carefree youth, attending a house party, didn’t even know the perpetrators and his life was crudely snatched away by a pack of thuggish, rogue, ignorant savages. Who raises this type of person? How does this type of person come into existence?

One of the young men (and I use that term very loosely) was quoted as saying, “I’m going to hit the next person I see.” Unfortunately it ended up being a helpless, 5 feet six inch, 125 pound young man who was minding his own business. The four young men proceeded to stomp and kick this young man to death, at a party, in front of partygoers. No one helped him. Totally disgusting.

This scene has played out over and again, in cities and states all across America, just change the names, but the color remains the same. Remember Chicago? It makes me so angry and so very sad! It breaks my heart. Wake up! Wake the hell up! Can’t you see the self-destruction you are leaving in your midst? Do you hate yourself that much that you have to destroy your own image? Black on black crime is destroying our communities.

We have lost a generation of young men who have fallen by the wayside. And personally, I don’t think they will ever recover and stand up like the tall oak they were meant to be. However, I pray that they will. They have no respect for themselves, no respect for women, no respect for the children they carelessly bring into the world and discard. . . bottom line, a human life means nothing to them.

This is validated time and time again when they act out in this destructive way, emulate and idolize rappers, murders and thieves, wear their pants below their waists and show not an ounce of respect for their elders. They would rather rob, maul and steal than make a way for themselves in this world, but instead stand behind the rallying cry of “the man owes them.” Nobody owes you shit. Stand and make a way for yourself the same way everyone else does.

I pity them. I despite them. And mostly I fear them.

I never thought I would see the day when I would be afraid to walk past a group of young men assembled in the streets. It shouldn’t be this way. I hate with everything in me that it is this way. Don’t they know they are the descendants of kings from Africa? They should walk, head held high, in greatness and pride.

I never thought I would see the day when I would bow my head in shame at a young man exposing his underwear and ass in a public arena. My heart splits in two. Why would you want to emulate a dress code worn by prisoners, gay prisoners as a means of identifying you will have sex with another man? Don’t you see the images on the evening news and know what the nation, the world, thinks of you? Rise up and destroy those images.

Free T.I. Free Gucci Mane. Free Bobby Brown. Remember those cries? When did it become cool to glorify bad behavior? When did it become cool to have street cred? Hell, they committed the crime, so their asses needed to stay right where they were. In jail. I hate that. . . free such and such. . . for what? You commit the crime, you do the time baby. These are grown ass men who have been given extraordinary opportunities to succeed. For every action there is a reaction and a consequence. Why should they get a pass?

I have a son, a teenage son, and I worry about him---not because he is a bad child, because he is most definitely not. In fact, he is my hope for the future. . . a hope that others like him (the future Obamas) will show the world their true strength, intelligent and integrity towards family, their communities and their God.

On the contrary, I worry about him because of who and the kind of toxic element he encounters and is exposed to on a daily basis. That is my fear, that he will be at the right place at the wrong time surrounded by one of them.

The gang of boys that killed that poor child and destroyed his family in the process, in my opinion they are trash, meant to be spit upon. They have no moral upbringing and are a bunch of savage predators who prey on the weak. They are vacant vessels simply existing in our world with empty minds and even emptier hearts and souls. I'm sure if you looked within their eyes, the gateway to the soul, they would be dead. They are a pack of cowards who deserve every punishment they receive and even then, that still will not be enough.

I am sooooo angry! And more of us need to become angry. Where were the men in their lives? I challenge our real men to rise up and lead. Reach one, teach one. A woman cannot turn a boy into a man. Real men take back your families and restore them to greatness.

I am worried about the state of our families for generations to come when this is what our future protectors, providers, head of households, etc. will teach a new generation of young men. Lord be with us. Be with them. I fear for the future of our society when this is the world my children will become adults in.

And an even sadder dilemma is that I don’t have an answer on how to solve it. Do you?

If I Could Go Back In Time

2010-08-22T16:29:00.004-04:00

“Life gives us brief moments with another...but sometimes in those brief moment we get memories that last a life time...”

I have always heard and been told that one should never live life looking backwards. It's not productive. Never live in the present, looking towards the future, with woulda coulda shouldas pulling you back. Always embrace your future and live in the moment. That's where your energies should go.

However, I must admit, sometimes when just the right oldies song comes on the radio, I become nostalgic and remember when. In that moment, I am taken back. It's amazing how a song can take you there---back in time---where you remember, and can almost feel what you were doing and who you were with at a moment from your past. And you smile because the memory makes you happy; it's almost like reliving it.

I've experienced a normal, middle class existence, just like most people, and sometimes I wonder, if even for a few seconds, what it would feel like to revisit my past. Even if it was only for an hour, or a day, with the knowledge I have now, to revisit various events and significant moments from my youth and young adulthood.

Wouldn't that be absolutely amazing?

I've had my share of good, bad, joyous and tragic moments and they have all blended together and made me the person I am today. I have learned many life lessons. I'm the conclusion of all the moments and events I've experienced in my past. We are all products of our past. A summation of events.

If I had a magical wand and the ability to time travel, I would go back to these major points in my life.

a day when I had terrific fun with all my female cousins that I grew up with
the day I turned 13 (finally a teenager)
the day I turned Sweet 16
my first date
my senior prom
a day in high school
a visit with my mom
I'd revisit the moment I fell in love for the first time
the first time I became a woman
high school graduation
turning 21
a day in college
college graduation
first day on a real job
my wedding day
birth of my son
birth of my daughter
reunion with all my deceased relatives
first book deal
???? (the ones yet to come)

The really great thing is that with God willing, I'll have many more special moments in my life. Life goes by so quickly. It's a shame that some people don't embrace it before it's too late. Memories. . . the fabric of life.

Believe Them

2010-08-12T21:26:00.002-04:00

I consider myself to be a genuine observer of people and life in general.

I have always had the unique ability to pick up on a person's aura (spirit) within minutes of meeting them. I can't say I have never been misled, but usually I am on point in knowing who is genuine and who is not so genuine.

I don't necessarily feel I'm an observer of people simply because I'm a writer, however, that is probably part of it, but also because human nature fascinates me to no end. That's probably why I minored in sociology in college, am intrigued with psychology, and my favorite TV shows, besides reality shows, are the ones such as Criminal Minds, which deals with profiling and understanding human behavior, deviant though it may be. Bottom line: People intrigue me.

I was listening to a radio show (V-103) on my commute into the city and the radio personality talked about an article he had read a few days earlier. Basically, the article stated that a research company completed a study that followed a select number of children from the time they were 5 or 6 years old until adulthood.
It was interesting to note that the same personality they exhibited when extensively interviewed as children, whether bubbly, happy, cranky, selfish, sad, bad, etc.,was the same personality they exhibit as an adult.

Isn't that like, "Wow!" Our personalities are ingrained in us and do not change from as early as five years old. This rings true as one of my favorite quotes is by Maya Angelou, "when people show you who they are, believe them."

Our personalities speak for themselves! Believe them!

I am Afraid

2010-08-09T19:29:00.000-04:00

“When I dare to be powerful---to use my strength in the service of my vision, then it becomes less and less important whether I am afraid.” –Audre Lorde

I admit it---I am afraid some of the time. Even though I am confident and secure in my abilities, gifts and destiny most of the time---being afraid will creep up now and then and play mind games with my psyche.

What am I afraid of?

I am afraid of not fulfilling my destiny. I am afraid of not becoming the best person I can be. I am afraid of falling short of my goals. I am afraid of not leaving a legacy for my children. I am afraid of not being good enough in their eyes, whoever “they” are.

I am afraid of not making a difference during my lifetime. I am afraid of just being average. I am afraid of second place. I am afraid of not having the strength to keep keeping on. I am afraid the universe will not recognize the passion, energy, drive and love I bring forth as if my life depends upon it.

I am afraid.

I am not afraid to admit these facts because I am human and imperfect just like anybody else. I have never been afraid to voice my feelings and emotions that I wear on my sleeve like a badge of honor. Oh yes, I have doubts and fears that shadow my path in the midst of my triumphs; attempting to shatter my dreams and discourage my footsteps. I recognize this for all it is and for all I will not let it become.

Yes, I am afraid.

I am afraid and scared some of the time, but I am also faithful in my knowledge that God didn’t bring me this far to forsake me. Why would he? His power can make the impossible, possible. Open doors that are closed. Make a stranger a powerful ally.

I am afraid some of the time, but most of the time, I am secure in my blessings and in the knowledge that it may not happen when I want it o happen, but it WILL happen. And that makes it less and less important whether I am afraid some of the time as long as I continue my walk to greatness.

Most of the time I am powerful.

Happy Birthday to me! Happy Birthday to me! Happy Birthday dear, Electa!

2010-02-25T20:42:00.004-05:00

It's my birthday, it's my birthday! Go Electa! Go Electa!

As a new celebration of my birth looms on the horizon, March 2nd, I feel so geninuely blessed and can't help but do a bit of reflecting on my amazing journey thus far.

There are a few things I've learned, well actually I've learned quite a lot, but for purposes of this blog I'll only share a few. A couple of things I've learned during my uh, coughing and clearing my throat, ??? years on earth are:

1. Life is short and precious. Don't take it for granted. Make a difference. Be a difference.

2. Age is simply a number.

As I've grown older, I have come to realize that there are two types of people I've crossed paths with during my lifetime. There are those who realize life is short and precious. They have elevated their state of existence in some manner. They are at peace with themselves and have discovered a purpose. At the end of the day, they realize it's not what you say but what you do to make a difference in the lives of others.

These are people who have let go of the baggage and discarded the clutter of life. They realize when they look in mirror, only they are required to love themselves back. And it's all good. They aren't looking for confirmation or validation from anyone. They are way pass that stage. It doesn't matter what your parents said, did or didn't do. It doesn't matter what material things you do or do not have. It doesn't matter how much money is in your bank account---it simply doesn't matter. When it is all said and done, you have to find peace within yourself---only then will the joy come. And joy really does come in the morning!

Going back to purpose, type #1 has discovered it is a responsibility as human beings to give back to others. Yes, it is our responsibility to mentor to young girls who have lost their way or simply don't know any better! Yes, it is our responsibility to teach boys how to become men! Yes, it is our responsibility to instill a moral compass within our children and to be a source of inspiration and guidance! Yes, we should be our brother's and sister's keeper because I've learned that it really does take a village to raise a child!

Our gifts were bestowed upon us for a divine purpose. It wasn't an accident. There aren't any accidents; everything happens for a reason. How are we and who are we to walk away and not accept the responsibility and not use it to uplift, inspire and embrace. That's the secret to a peaceful, happy life: Give back to others, find peace within yourself and use your gifts to inspire others to reach higher and be a beacon of light. Some of us are so lost we need a light to reflect our path.

The second group, even with age, haven't awakened and realized that age is just a number. It's all mental baby! I finally understand what the "old people" from back in the day meant when they stated they still felt like a young girl or a young man at heart. You really are as young as you feel. . . or as old as you feel.

The youthful appearance may fade, the muscles and joints may ache, the wrinkles and gray hair may appear, and the suppleness may leave in some places, but that still doesn't undermine the fact that we should continue to live life to the fullest because we only get one and personally, there is too much I want to see and experience before it is said and done. I want to experience much that falls between the hypen that will be on my tombstone.

Every day is an adventure to me. I have an adventurous spirit that will probably be with me to the day I die. I'll be the old woman sky diving from a plane. . . well, maybe that wasn't a good example since I'm afraid of heights. LOL. I thrive on discovery, seeing new and exciting places and things. I enjoy meeting new and interesting people that expose me to new ideas, cultures and concepts. I love to be taught and challenged and shocked and loved and pampered and spoiled. . . Embrace life with a passion and it will love you back ten-fold.

So on March 2nd, I will not look at it as another day older but as another opportunity to experience all the beauty and splendor that life has to offer.

I Don't Read Those Types of Books

2010-02-02T22:26:00.003-05:00

"I don't read those types of books"

Last Saturday, that was the comment that was haphazardly tossed my way at my first book signing in over two years at a Border's bookstore.

Welcome to the world of the crude and insensitive. Let me dig around in my bag for my thick skin and put it back on.

Ouch!!!

I simply smiled, gave her the 100-watt version, tossed it back in the African American woman's direction and said, "Okay, thank you. Have a nice day."

As she made her way to the discount bin and non African-American sections of the store, in my mind, I was thinking, "Exactly what kind of books do you not read and since you haven't picked up mine, haven't come within 20 feet, how can you positively classify, Diary of a Stalker, in that category.

Don't get me wrong and misconstrue my message, I wasn't upset. . . wouldn't waste my precious energy on such trivia nonsense, but I was curious as to how she could make such a broad, all-encompassing statement without any information whatsoever on which to base it.

After hurt feelings (Pisces trait) many years ago, I accepted the fact that everyone wasn't going to love or even like what I penned and that's cool. . . I respect that. Believe me when I say, my world doesn't come tumbling down. However, on the flip side, I have many adoring fans that embrace my novels; I write for them.

I pen drama filled, fast paced, racy, relationship-based stories with underlying messages that appeal to women overall. I graciously accept the title as a women's fiction author. However, I am not who or what I write and I make no excuses for my storylines. I simply know I am a writer. I do what writers do; I create intriguing storylines that stem from my vivid imagination. . . and then I release them to the world. There is always a choice for the reader and always for the writer, an audience that may or may not embrace their body of work.

Y'all know I share the good, the bad and the ugly side of the literary industry. So here are my thoughts:

Basically, I found it ignorant for an African American female, or anyone for that matter, to classify all AA books in one category based upon glancing for three seconds, across the room, at a book cover. She wasn't aware of the storyline, the message, how well written or any details to back up her condescending statement or attitude.

Simply: I don't read those types of books

Yet this is the same African American consumer who will stroll two aisles down, pick up a Stephen King or Jackie Collins novel and support them wholeheartedly with her consumer dollars. Again, I know that is her prerogative. But I'm just saying. . .

Lesson: We all have choices, but lets have the facts first.

Side note: Within an hour and a half, I went on to sell out all copies of Diary of a Stalker in the store. Somebody reads those types of books:)

2010-01-09T23:30:00.000-05:00

A Conversation with Electa Rome Parks

Tell us about your newest release, Diary of a Stalker.

Diary of a Stalker: a best-selling male author gets more than he bargained for when he meets a fanatical female fan. What starts out as a one-night stand quickly spirals out of control and into a dangerous game of obsession and pain.

As always, I offer readers an entertaining, steamy story that is fast paced, thought provoking, relationship based with an added twist. Readers will be fascinated and appalled at what drives some people to go after what they want at whatever cost. I think I have birthed characters that my readers will develop a love/hate relationship and hopefully will be talking back to the book as they experience the various emotions that my characters pull out of them. Diary of a Stalker will make for heated book club discussions across the country and readers will definitely be talking about it the next day.

Since it has been a couple of years since my last novel, Ladies’ Night Out, dropped, I wanted this new release to be something a little different from my previous novels. Yet, I wanted to maintain the core elements that my books are known for. The drama, the fast-paced nature, and the steamy relationship-based elements are still alive and well.

I have attended a lot of literary events such as conferences, signings, workshops, etc. After awhile I started to notice a pattern no matter what city or state I was in. Even though the avid readers, mostly female, poured much love my way (I love you back), I noticed the male authors received an extra dose (smile). Maybe because there aren’t as many male authors??? I noticed if I attended a large event, I would see some of the same female readers hanging out with the same male authors. Hmmm. So then, I started thinking about how groupies follow rock bands, rappers, professional athletics, actors and entertainers. Why wouldn’t this exist in the literary arena as well? Throw a few over the top “what if questions” into the mix and Diary of a Stalker was born.

Besides the actual writing process, what is the most gratifying aspect of being a writer?

Hands down, the most gratifying part of being an author has been meeting and greeting new and interesting readers who are embracing my stories and e-mailing me and writing me and meeting me at signings and telling me how much they've enjoyed my books! We talk about my characters like they are old friends. No matter how many times I've experienced this, it always makes my day. Puts a big smile on my face (LOL).

Their (the readers) feedback and reactions totally validates that my craft is a gift from God! If I can touch a number of people with my stories or even if I only entertain them and they don't walk away with a life lesson, then I've still done my job.

As you know, my stories are typically relationship based, very drama filled with an ounce of spice thrown in, well maybe a pound of spice thrown in, and they usually cover a topical issue that is prevalent in today's society. Believe me, I have so many characters screaming inside my head, waiting to tell their story, that I feel like the lady from the movie Sybil (LOL). So, bottom line, I pray and claim that my readership base will continue to grow and I'll have wonderful opportunities to meet many more fans.

If you weren't a writer what would you be?

Don't laugh, but if I weren't a writer, I'd probably be a psychiatrist. I absolutely love getting inside people's heads and seeing how or why they tick the way they do. The human psyche totally amazes and intrigues me to no end.

How do you deal with adversity and failure?

I stress out! I totally freak out, have a pity party, and take to my bed (LOL)! I'm laughing, but I'm pretty accurate. I'm so hard on myself, I'm my worst critic, and I've got to stop doing that. I can't enjoy my successes because I'm too busy worrying about what I could have done better or thinking about the next venture.

After I finally pull myself out of bed and stop my pity party (this usually lasts for roughly 24 hours), I analyze my situation like I'm breaking down a trigonometry problem. After all is said and done, I learn the lesson, file it in my permanent memory bank, remember I'm still standing and move on. In afterthought, life lessons are wonderful, even the ones filled with adversity and failure; they make us stronger and wiser and who we are today.

Also, if I may add, I have a good support team in place with my family and friends. Plus, I have a solid spiritual foundation that keeps me strong and undaunted by the dream dashers.

How do you define success?

Good question. Personally, I define success as being able to do something you truly love on a day to day basis, getting paid for it in the process, giving back to the community (to whom much is given, much is expected) and being the best person you can be which enables you to sleep peacefully at night. To me, those combined elements make you a successful person. And. . . if you place God and your family first, the sky's the limit!

What is one thing most readers don’t know about you?

Most readers don't know that I'm moody, I’m a true perfectionist, I love, love, love adventures, I believe in many unorthodox ideas, I’m sweetest person you ever want to meet until you step to me the wrong way, and I think Terrell Owens is super sexy and. . . Well, I guess that’s enough (I’m telling all my business) and you only asked for one. LOL. Oh, and I sometimes share too much.

Peace & Blessings,

Electa Rome Parks

2010-01-09T23:18:00.000-05:00

My highly anticipated novel, Diary of a Stalker, dropped on December 29th and I couldn't be more excited! Thus far, the reviews have been positive and the buzz is strong.

In order to share in my excitement, I'd like to offer the opportunity for my readers to win a free copy. In fact I'm so hyped, I'm giving away three free copies. However, there is a catch. Isn't there always a catch? (smile)

Since I am always sharing bits and pieces of my life, if you have been paying attention this should be a walk in the park. Simply answer the following questions:

1. What is the title of my first novel?

2. What are the names of the two main characters from Diary of a Stalker?

3. Is my first name Electra or Electa?

4. What is the first line from Diary of a Stalker?

5. List the titles of all my books.

6. (Bonus question) What football player do I have a crush on?

Simply email me at novelideal@aol.com by
Sunday, Jan 17, 2010. Winners selected randomly.

Good luck!

Have You Ever?

2009-12-18T17:08:00.002-05:00

Have You Ever?

Craving: an intense desire for some particular thing or person; a yearning

Have you ever craved someone so badly that you can’t think straight, you’re intoxicated with desire?

Have you ever craved someone so badly that all you can think about is the feel of his strong hands on your body, as they stroke, squeeze, roam to bring you pure, unadulterated pleasure?

Have you ever craved someone so badly that just the mere thought of him makes you shiver uncontrollably with lust; a soft moan escapes your throat as you cross and uncross your legs to contain the heat?

Have you ever craved someone so badly that he takes you there by his look, touch and masculine smell, his mouth on your neck, moving upward as he seductively whispers naughty words into your ear?

Have you ever craved someone so badly that you’re willing to leave all inhibitions at the door because with him you know it’ll be worth the erotic adventure your body longs for?

Have you ever craved someone so badly that when you close your eyes at night, all you can see is you and him caught up in the throes of heated passion, hotter than you have ever been?

Have you ever craved someone so badly that all you can think about is getting that next high, of being in his presence, of feeling his strokes deep inside taking you to ecstasy?

Have you ever craved someone so badly that you almost lost your mind?

I have. . .

There is one small problem. . . he doesn't crave me back. However, I intend to change all that!

Pilar, Diary of a Stalker 2009

To Believe or Not to Believe

2009-12-01T22:01:00.002-05:00

Okay. For those of you who know me, I mean really know me, well . . . you recognize that I tend to believe in or should I say, am open to, a lot of unconventional ideas.

Don't laugh. But. . . I believe in reincarnation. I recall years ago, an actress, her name escapes me now, stated she had lived several previous lives and the media had a field day making a mockery of her and her belief. However, I never once thought it was ludacris.

Back in college, I wrote an essay, in my Death and Dying class (which met at 8:00 a.m. during winter quarter) on why I could believe in reincarnation. I can't exactly recall all my major points, but I was open enough to acknowledge it could possibly exist.

1. We know, we as human beings, are on earth to learn life lessons through our experiences, whatever they may emcompass, be it joy, sadness, death, injury, illness, love, pain, kindness, etc. We learn, grow and develop as spiritual beings as we absorb life and elevate ourselves to be more Christ-like through our experiences.

Why wouldn't some of us have to live several lifetimes to gain enough experience to accelerate to the next spiritual level. I've been told that I've been here at least three other lifetimes. I know this sounds like a Twightlight Moment but I'm relaying what I've been told.

2. How do you explain deja vu when it happens to you? We have all experienced it at some point or another, where you have to stop and think. . . "I've seen this before, or been here before or felt this way before with this person." I recall having that experience my first time visiting Jamaica. As the plane flew over the Blue Mountains, I glanced out the window and experienced an immediate familarity. As the plane circled around in preparation for landing, I felt a sudden and unexpected peacefulness descend upon my spirit. I felt like I was coming home after being gone for a long, long time. There was excitement and happiness. . . and a joy to be back where I belonged, to my roots.

During my stay in Jamaica, I experienced even more deja vu. I sensed I had been there before, however, I knew I hadn't. The land, people, the culture, music, food, all felt familiar and safe and like family. I've never experienced that before or since in my travels.

I even found myself getting up early (believe me when I say, I never, ever do that) to have time by myself to simply sit by the pool and enjoy the dawn of a new morning. I stayed seven days and when it was time to return home, I experienced a true sadness that surprised me with its boldness. I boarded the plane for the U.S. with a new sense of relaxation and peacefulness, within. Much like when you go home, when you haven't visited in awhile, and you get pampered, spoiled, fed and rejuvenated.

3. How many of you have ever met someone, male or female, for the first time but felt as if you've known them your entire life.

I have.

The feelings are so intense because there is such a strong immediate bond, much like being reunited with a long, lost relative or spouse or other loved one. Your spirit/soul senses you've been together before, in perhaps another lifetime as sister, brother, lover, husband, friend, mother, daughter. The spirit recognizes what we can't logically understand. Until that first meeting, you never realized you missed them so intensely. There is such a longing to be around that person, in their presence, because you feel like you can't lose them again. You feel a deep sense of completeness when you are around them.

I don't know if reincarnation exists or not. . . I considered doing a past life regression hypnosis a couple of years ago but the person I wanted to facilitate it never toured in Atlanta. That is still on my list of "things to do."

Who knows? Life is mysterious and no one has all the answers or knows all its secrets. However, I've always maintained an open mind to the possibilities.

Prologue, Chapters 1 & 2 - Diary of a Stalker by Electa Rome Parks

2009-11-27T23:13:00.002-05:00

available December 29, 2009

PROLOGUE

Darkness surrounded her with a thick cloak of protection; shadows bounced and ricocheted off the walls. She embraced it with open arms, like welcoming a long-lost friend back into the fold.

Silence. She felt safe now. While most people gravitated towards the light, she embraced the night, the cover of darkness. From experience she knew that deeds not meant to be seen or heard were best carried out in the deep, secretive confines of the night.

Quietly and painfully slow, she crept out of the shadows, cautiously pushed clothes aside, opened the closed closet door and existed with precision. Her footsteps were deliberate and calculated. She knew every creak and crevice from memory. She walked with the confident stride of someone who was comfortable with her surroundings.

Ever so cautiously, she pushed the closet door open, just an inch. Stopped and listened. Then another inch. Then another. Silence, except for the even sound of breathing. She knew he was a deep sleeper, but she still didn't want to take any chance of him waking up. Tonight wouldn't be the night when she became careless. Even though she had been here before, numerous times, this was the first time with him being inside the house.

With the slinkiness and sneakiness of a feline stalking her prey, she moved from inside the closet to the master bedroom. Stopped just short of the massive bed and simply watched. Watched and reveled in the closeness they shared. Being in the same space with him thrilled her.

She had to force herself to breath because he took her breath away. Every time. He did it for her. If only he would love her back. Even if it were only with a quarter of the love she felt for him. . . she'd still be satisfied. He slept on his back, breathing evenly, legs sprawled wide, with a thin sheet pulled up to his waist. She knew that underneath he was completely nude.

It took all she had not to reach out and touch him. She was so close, yet so far away. In her mind, he was absolutely perfect. Perfect for her. Her eyes eagerly and greedily took him in. Ravished him with her deep carnal yearning.

Why couldn't he simply love her back? This question played out in her mind over and over again, each and every day. Crippling her. Crushing her confidence. Making her crazy. Crazy like a loon. Sometimes she hated him. Hated him with a devastating passion. Those were the days she wanted to do something bad to him. Wanted to hurt him. Make him pay for not loving her.

Tonight, she simply watched. She stood there for hours and watched him peacefully sleep. If he had awakened and looked a few feet in front of him, he would have easily spotted her. Her desire to be near him overrode her fear of being caught.

Once she had her fill of him, she silently crept down the stairwell and out the front door, quietly closing it behind her. The next morning he would be none the wiser. Only the faint smell of her perfume would remain. He'd imagine he dreamt of a dark figure towering over him. Watching. And waiting. Waiting until it was time.

PILAR

I'm your #1 fan.

It's funny how one's life can forever be changed with the utterance of four simple words: I'm your #1 fan. Well, actually, they weren't spoken, but sent to my favorite male author, Xavier Preston, by way of e-mail. Man, I love the World Wide Web.

I couldn't believe it; I had recently finished reading his latest national bestseller, Secret Desires, and to put it mildly, I was simply blown away. I felt like the main character was speaking directly to me, like she was inside my brain, picking it apart, piece-by-piece. I could relate to the storyline . . . totally . . . and the ending was spectacular, took my breath away. Secret Desires stayed with me, languishing inside my soul, like a sweet kiss that lingers into the early morning hours as dawn approaches.

Even though I am an avid reader, I should be since I'm a freelance writer; I typically do not contact authors about their books. I don't get caught up in the entire groupie side of the literary industry. Yes, it exists! Surprise, surprise! There is an entire circle of women all across the country, sometimes entire book clubs, who follow the lives and movement of African-American male writers the same way groupies chase after rappers, rock stars, athletes and actors.

In the book industry, it is just a bit more subtle. For example, the book club president might fly the handsome, fine, articulate male author into her city for the weekend, to discuss his most recent hot release at the monthly book club meeting and to perhaps get the added bonus of getting up close and personal between the sheets. It happens.

For me, however, this was different; Xavier Preston made a lasting impression. And generally it took a lot to impress me because I wasn't into the ordinary and I was determined to tell him, how impressed I was. That is, after I went out and purchased all his previous novels. I had a bit of catching up to do.

A week later, after devouring his other six novels from cover to cover like a delicious gourmet meal, savoring every word, I knew I had to make contact. I simply had an unrelenting urge to speak with him. I couldn't get his lyrical, rhythmic, flowing words out of my head. This man moved me. Moved me like I had never been moved before. I felt a connection. A deep connection.

Early one morning, before I began writing an article for one of the local magazines I frequently wrote for, I sent Xavier Preston my sincere, honest thoughts.

“Mr. Preston, I'm your #1 fan. I know you hear that all the time from readers, but I really, truly am. Your characters stay with me long after I've consumed the last page of your books. I never want your stories to end; they move me. You are super-talented, put these other authors to shame, and I'd love for you to autograph my books. By the way, I have all your novels. When will you be in Atlanta? A true, die-heart fan, Pilar.”

Much to my surprise and pleasure, a couple of days later, I received a simple response.

“Pilar, what a lovely name. Thank you, for the sweet e-mail. I'm so pleased you've enjoyed my books over the years. I'd love to meet you as well. I enjoy meeting and greeting my readers. I will be signing at Medu Bookstore, at 5:00 PM next Saturday at Greenbriar Mall. Please, stop by if you get the opportunity. I would love to see you there. Xavier.”

With a pounding heartbeat, I couldn't believe what I was reading and I re-read it a few more times for clarity. Wanted to make sure I was reading correctly that Xavier Preston asked to meet me. Me. Next weekend couldn't arrive soon enough.

It was Friday afternoon, a week after I had received Xavier's e-mail, and I was lying across my bed, admiring the author photo of Xavier on the back cover of his debut title. Outlining his features with my index finger. He had such soulful, penetrating brown eyes and the sexiest pair of dimples I had ever seen. Such a handsome man. I was so caught up in looking at the picture that I almost forgot I had Leeda on the phone. Leeda and I had been friends since my days in Baltimore. I moved to Atlanta almost four years ago. Had to get out of Baltimore. Held too many memories, most of them bad.

“Pilar, for the life of me, I can't understand why you are so excited about meeting this author. My God, he's only an author. It's not like he's Jay-Z or Denzel,” she exclaimed in her usual authoritative sounding voice, with a bit of amusement.

I sighed inwardly because Leeda didn't understand, or maybe couldn't understand, no matter how many times or how hard I tried to explain it to her.

“Xavier gets me. Period. He gets me. Read Secret Desires and you'll understand. It's as if he patterned the main character after me. Like he peeked inside my bedroom window and started writing. It's almost eerie. I have never met this man a day in my life, but it's like he reached inside my mind and penned my thoughts on paper.”

"Pilar, there are many women who think exactly as you do. They are looking for a handsome soulmate and think there is only one true love for them. You aren't the only woman in the world who is a hopeless romantic. Your thoughts are not unique in that aspect."

Leeda could never understand, so I simply gave up trying to convince her that this was different. Xavier was different; I could feel it deep in my bones.

"Well, it won't hurt anything for me to attend the signing, after all, he did invite me. I can at least get my books autographed. Years from now, who knows, they might be very valuable."

"True. Just don't go there with expectations that are only in your mind," Leeda said.

"Whatever," I stated with an exasperated sigh.

"Pilar, don't get so defensive. You know how you are. We've discussed it before. Every man you meet who is kind to you is not the one. I don't want to see you hurt again."

"Please, lets not even go there," I said.

"Okay, if you say so. Just remember, life is what you make it. You don't need a man to make you whole."

"I know that but I have a feeling that Xavier Preston is going to change my life for the better," I stated with a huge smile. I was on a natural high. A Xavier high.

XAVIER

Never trust a big butt and a smile.

I've been in the literary game for several years now, with

seven best-selling novels to my name. I figured out a long time

ago that I have the gift of gab, of storytelling. . . and I love

women. All shapes, sizes, colors and ethnicities. I don't

discriminate; I believe in equal opportunity. Becoming a

novelist was a natural progression seeing as how I've been telling tall tales my entire life. Women purchase most books, which is a good thing since my target market is definitely women, especially African American. If I depended on men for my livelihood, I would literally be a starving artist.

At this stage of the game, I have pretty much seen it all and

done it all. If I must say so myself, I've led an exciting life. The stories I could tell. However, my "psycho bitch" radar must have been malfunctioning when this chick named Pilar first approached me. Damn, it leaves a sour taste in my mouth just to spit that bitch's name off of my tongue.

Never in a million years could anyone have told me that sweet face and banging body would spell trouble with a capital T. Never in a million years. I guess it's true. . . never judge a book by it's cover. If I knew then what I know now, I would have pressed delete real quick when I received her very first e-mail.

"I'm your #1 fan!" Pilar didn't send an e-mail; she sent a virus, in the form of her very presence.

So sweet and accommodating---a boost to my already over-inflated ego, at least that's what I've been told. I received e-mails like that all the time from adoring female fans, so it never crossed by mind that inviting Pilar to my book signing would set my nightmare into motion, with my life quickly spiraling out of control and Pilar as the driver.

Even if I wrote the events that transpired into one of my novels, no one would believe them. They'd think Pilar was just a fabricated, figment of my vivid imagination. Sometimes I think she is. Wake up hoping and praying that she is. However, I'm not that lucky.

I wish. . . I wish I could go back and rewrite the storyline, which is my life. Do some line editing and write that crazy ass bitch out of the major scenes, hell the entire book. No, I'd kill her off in the first couple of chapters. Have her die a slow and torturous death. Yeah, that would make me happy. Very happy indeed.

Now, it's much too late for that. I have to deal with the consequences of my actions---or lack of. It's true---that line from an old BBD song---never trust a big butt and a smile.

I'm hardheaded; I had to learn the hard way.

Living a Purposeful LIfe

2009-11-12T20:03:00.007-05:00

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, "Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous?" Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small doesn't serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It is not just in some of us; it is in everyone. As we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others. --- Marianne Williamson

The above is one of my favorite quotes; it's so powerful and empowering and uplifting. Yesterday, I finished an "untitled" manuscript that delves into how precious and short life truly is. It follows a group of friends who are reunited at a tragic moment in each of their lives.

Yes, life is short and precious but we can all make a difference before we pass on to the next state of being. I talk about making a difference all the time and recently I sat down and reevaluated my definition or concept of what I really mean. When I first started writing on a professional level, I used to state that I wrote for entertainment purposes only. That is true. . . partly. However, on another level, I realized I have been given a gift and I can't afford to write just for entertainment. There has to be a deeper purpose.

You say, "But your books aren't literary. They are spicy and fun and drama-filled and relationship based."

True. They are.

But. . . they all carry underlying messages, life lessons that readers can relate to because they or someone they know have experienced them. I used to think making a difference meant making it in a huge, massive way. I thought it meant having an impact on millions of people. Then one day it dawned on me, my books and blogs are read by thousands, not millions (yet), but it really doesn't matter because if I've touched somebody, anybody, then my purpose has been served.

I realize God has bestowed favor upon me for just this reason. I receive emails, sometimes letters, all the time about how my books have made a difference in someones life. . . even if it was to take them away from their own problems for 200+ pages. It's fulfilling to know I've touched someone, connected with a stranger at some level through my words. Words are powerful! The emails are my blessings, my confirmations that I'm doing what God's favor has chosen for me to do.

Sometimes, not always, it's not about the quantity, but the quality. Touching one, two, three here, four or five over there, that's where the magic comes into play. I've learned regardless of what advertisers and the media wants us to believe, it doesn't take much to make most people happy. We all want the same things. We want to feel loved, protected, happy and understood by another being. We want to connect.

Whether it's a smile, a hug, a few kind words, we all have the power to make a difference in the lives of others. I think back to all the times I've felt alone and abandoned, felt like no one understood me---that's when someone came along and said just the right words to make it all better. It may have been, "Good job." "Keep doing what you're doing." "Keep it moving, sista." "You inspire me." "I love your positive energy."

It didn't matter.

However, those words lit a fire underneath me. It gave me the motivation and desire to continue on because I was making a difference, maybe not in the big way I imagined in all my perfect dreams, but in my own way.

Life takes us down many dirt roads, side alleys and avenues before we reach our final destination. Life is short, life is precious, make a difference so that your living will not be in vain. If we realized how much power we truly have, it would be mind boggling. Don't diminish your power.

I Believe the Children are Our Future

2009-11-09T21:47:00.011-05:00

I realize I will probably take some flack for stating this, but so be it. Some things simply have to be said: One of my biggest pet peeves is single women placing a man before their child.

Personally, I think it is appalling for any mother, single or married, to place a man ahead of her child. Yet, I know of and hear stories of this happening all the time. Oftentimes with dire consequences.

I realize, for AA women especially, there is a shortage of men and noticeably so here in the ATL, the ratio of men to women is astounding. So the men of Atlanta can and do get away with a lot of unacceptable bullshit. However, we all know that they couldn't get away with this if we, as women, didn't allow nor tolerate it. But. . . it's one thing to know and another to act on it.

I have no tolerance level for women who constantly parade a barrage of man after man in front of their child. One week it's Uncle Mike, a month later, Uncle Paul and on and on and on. I don't believe a man should even be introduced to a child unless the relationship is heading towards marriage. It is too confusing to the child. Translation: Don't lay up with different men, any man, in your bed in front of your children. Your son or daughter shouldn't have to wake up to a half clothed man walking out of mommy's bedroom. Children aren't stupid and besides, what message is this sending to the children? Both the male and female child will internalize this differently.

Secondly, stop allowing men who aren't the babies' father to discipline your child. That child is your responsibility, not some stranger you bring in off the street, who may or may not be in your life a year from now. If you find yourself with child, but unmarried to the babies' daddy, then unfortunately you have to act as man and dad if the biological father is not in your life. It's okay for the child to have a mentor or father figure, but when it ultimately comes down to it, no matter how you slice and dice it, the child is your responsibility.

Finally, don't move yourself and your child in with a man. Don't shack up when a child is in the picture. I firmly believe that children should be bought up to see, from your example, positive, loving, striving relationships. The mother depending upon a man, and not having her own, is not positive reinforcement. Young girls, especially, need to be exposed to independent, strong mothers that set goals and achieve.

Again, I know my comments may not please some, but I also know some women will do or say almost anything to have and keep a man in their life and bed. Lets simply not forget the children in the process. That's all I'm asking. They are the future.

Secret Lover

2009-10-22T21:44:00.014-04:00

My lover is like no other. . .
The only one for me. . .
My lover takes me to new heights and beyond. . .
I yearn to be near, caught up in your delicious rapture. . .

You come to me during the deep recess of dawn, catching me in the midst of lovely dreams and the beginning and promise of a new day.

Oh, your touch sends shivers up and down my spine, arching my back, smiling even in sleep. You do that for me. . . you make me smile. Reaching for you, trying to pull you closer, to be a part of you, seeking out your mystery, so that I may never lose my joy or the passion you bring.

My heart beats for you. Can you hear it?

Your words, soft whispers in my ear, they are magic. They move my soul to depths I've never known before or after you. You comfort, hypnotize, seduce and arouse me all in one, with one caress. Only you. Only you can make me feel the tings and zings of life, passion and depths of living and I feel it radiate from the top of my head to the tip of my toes.

Ummm. You make me feel so good. I sigh, exhaling, taking you in, all of you; damn, it can't get any better than this. Do you know what you do to me?

You know how to stroke the inferno flames that take me to the peak of the mountaintop and how to ease me back down into that peacefulness of heaven on earth where it all makes sense.

You move me like no other. Oh, you make me come alive and tremble and shudder from just the mere thought of being near you. When you embrace me, I feel you deep inside, my very spirit cries out and rejoices in your presence. I glow. Only you. . .

Stay with me. Never leave me. Stay true to me as I'll always be dedicated to you. I adore you.

My heart. My soul. My muse. My lover.

Who are you?

Why of course, you're my lover of words.

I am Phenomenal!

2009-10-22T21:21:00.007-04:00

I was raised with a healthy level of positive self-esteem! I can thank my mom for that. I've always believed people are people. Titles, awards, status, degrees, money, prestige, beauty. . . it means nothing to me. When it's all stripped down and set to the side, people are people. If you are cut, regardless of who you are, you will bleed red.

I measure people from a level of integrity, morality and character.

I've never gotten caught up in thinking that because someone has a certain title, especially during my professional working career, that I'm suppose to bow down to them. Not!

There's a very big difference between showing respect and kissing your ass, brown nosing or thinking less of myself when I'm around you. I've never even embraced the word that classified the difference between the boss and the employee. Insubordinate.

I'm not insubordinate to anyone but the man above---God. Therefore, I'll never allow anyone to intimidate, belittle, or even attempt to make me feel a level below them.

I feel that everyone from the janitor to the CEO of a company is to be respected and admired for the job they perform, because it is necessary for us to have our various duties and roles, but when it's all said and done---we are just human beings, regardless of race, sex, or nationality and that in itself places us all on the same level.

Life lesson: Created in the image of God, you are phenomenal! Don't allow anyone to tell you any differently.

Toxic People

2009-10-22T20:40:00.004-04:00

1. Treat others as you'd like to be treated.

2. To have friends, you must be a friend.

3. Expect to be treated a certain way---a respectful way.

4. Never trust a liar.

These are just some of the creeds my children have heard from me at various times
during their short lifetime. They are simple antidotes that have served me well in life and I gladly pass them on to Brandon and Briana. There are many others, too many to name, that I share as well when the need arises.

Expect to be treated a certain way. We receive only what we allow.

I live by that on a day-to-day basis. I am special; we all are. This statement is not coming from a place of arrogance but from a stance of spiritually. I am special. And because of that, I expect to be handled as such. I value my life, my body, my intellect, my talent and I expect others too as well. If a person can't handle that, well, they need to get to stepping because I don't need them in my life.

I will not allow someone, anyone, to talk down to me or attempt to make me feel like a lesser person. I know clearly who and what I am. Do you?

I don't need anyone in my life who isn't supportive, encouraging, inspiring and positive because I try to bring those qualities to the table when I deal with others. I can't deal with, nor do I have to, people who are unhappy with their lives for whatever reasons, so they attempt to make everyone around them unhappy and miserable. Does that sound like someone you know?

If you are unhappy with your life, then change it, you have that power in your hands to make a difference in how you live your life. Don't go through life miserable; it's too short. Make a change(s). Be happy. Be free.

I can't tolerate people who always see the negative side of every situation they find themselves in. The cup is always half empty, not half full. They complain, complain, complain --- no matter how trivia the situation may be. Ask yourself: Will it matter a year from now?

I try not to surround myself with people who are constantly talking about someone else. People they know and even the ones they don't know personally are fair game. Take a quick look in the mirror before you throw stones.

I refuse to deal with people who think their opinion is the only one. They talk over you, under you, refusing to let you get a word in edgewise. We can agree to disagree and remain civil. Here's a clue: The loudest talker doesn't translate to the smartest one.

I hate being around people who as long as they are sharing and talking about things of interest to them, they are fine, but as soon as it's the other person's turn, they lose interest. Wake up. The world doesn't revolve around you. Share in the joys of others.

Life lesson: Life is too short to waste on people who sap you of your positivity.

Talk To Me

2009-10-20T22:26:00.007-04:00

Alone in a room, it's just me and You
I feel so lost 'cause I don't know what to do
Now what if I choose the wrong thing to do
I'm so afraid, afraid of disappointing You

There have been numerous times in my life when I have had moments of despair and self-doubt. Even when in my heart, my soul, my very being, I knew the answer. We all do. Deep down, when we are silent, the answers are there. . . if only we will be still and listen to our inner voice.

That inner voice is God. God is always with us. He wants us to succeed, to reach our destiny.

So I need to talk to You and ask You for Your guidance
Especially today when my life is so cloudy
Guide me until I'm sure
I open up my heart, oh, yeah

There have been so many times in my life when, like now, I feel compelled to write. Write because the overwhelming emotions and feelings that are leaping and raging within can only be placed on paper, captured for eternity, that one moment in time. . . to read and feel over and again during the quiet, endearing moments of life. Moments like this come far and few, when you want to reach back and remember, "Oh yeah, that's how I felt."

I wouldn't describe myself as religious, but more as a spirtual person. I know God is real; I feel Him all around me. Each and every day. He's been with me through some of the most difficult moments of my life; that's why I'm still here to write about it. He carried me through when I couldn't walk through it.

My hopes and dreams are fading fast
I'm all burned out and I don't think my strengths gonna last
So I'm crying out, crying out to You
Lord, I know that You're the only one who is able to pull me through

God has been by my side for my joys and triumphs as well. He has celebrated my successes and knew they would happen because they were all written in my divine plan. I simply had to believe I could do great things because I am created in His image.

He has heard me call out his name and He has answered my call, time and time again. Sometimes I felt as if I didn't deserve his divine grace. . . but he still gently gathered me snugly in his arms and soothed my soul. Told me everything was going to be okay and you know what, it was.

So show me how to do things Your way
Don't let me make the same mistakes over and over again
Your will be done and I'll be the one to make sure that it's carried out
And in me, I don't want any doubt, that's why

There have been numerous times when I've been confused and I've prayed and asked Him to provide guidance. Send me a sign, send me a message, send me someone. . . something to show me, I'm like that; I always have to be shown. He didn't fret, didn't blink.

All I need to do is just hear a single word from You
I open, I open, open up my heart
Just one word could make a difference in what I do
Lord, guide me until I'm sure

Well, He did it again. In another moment of self-doubt, I asked for guidance and He delivered. Sometimes the very thing I know without a shadow of a doubt, is the one thing I fight, subconsciously, against. I say out loud negative thoughts that enter my mind: "Why me? Why aren't things happening faster for me? Why do I want the one thing that brings me the most frustration? Why do I let people bring me down?"

And He always eagerly responds with wisdom: "Why not you? This is your calling, your gift; use it wisely and don't take it for granted. You have the ability to reach thousands and thousands of people with your words; you have the ability to make a difference with your stories because no matter the format, they touch people. . . because they relate to the realness and vulnerability your characters reveal. Don't let the naysayers and the dream dashers allow you to lose your vision and divine destiny.

"Things are happening just the way they are suppose to happen. Don't forget, things happen in my time, not yours. You are exactly where you are supposed to be and no one, no one, can take that from you. What's meant for you, is meant for you. Be patient, my child. Patience is a virtue.

"You want the one thing that brings you frustration because that one thing speaks to you the loudest, speaks to you from a place within; a space that no one else can touch or see or hear or smell but you. Remember that. It's special; it's your magic. That's why even though you butt heads; you could never turn away from it because it defines you in as much as you bring it alive and place dept to it. Passions run deep. . and strong. . . and real. Embrace it and it'll love you back ten-fold."

I always pray for God to speak to me. . . to show me. . . to silence my struggles. You see, I've been nervous, pondering my next move and uncertain of the future, but He knows. . .He knows the beginning, middle and end. For it was spoken even before I was born.

I'm so happy that good news was sent my way, at the precise moment that I needed to hear it. Always right on time. . . with a warm spirit as the deliverer.

God is good! All the time!

You're the lover of my soul
Captain of my sea
I need a word from You
That's why I open up my heart

100 Questions

2009-10-16T21:36:00.004-04:00

What's your purpose in life? Does hell really exist? Why do the good die young? Do good girls really finish last? Is it better to marry for love or money? Do you believe in the Big Bang Theory or God created the heaven and earth? Which came first, the chicken or the egg? Does love really conquer all? Does age bring wisdom? Is life fair? Is all fair in love and war? Is the grass greener on the other side? Does extraterrestrials exist? If you follow your passion, will money follow? Whose sexier, Denzel or Idris? Is it true, the darker the berry, the sweeter the juice? Is there life after death? Will the world end in 2012? Have you seen any miracles lately? Can you survive on love alone? Is abortion right or wrong? Are lying and murdering equal sins? Can pedophiles be reformed? Are young African-American males on the path to destruction? What is "good" hair? What would you do to be successful? Is life predestined? How far will honesty and hard work take you? Do we live in a world of reality or perception? Will an unhappy person equate to an unhappy life? Does God like ugly? Is mind really over matter? If he hits you once, will he hit you again? Does human kindness always triumph over cruelty? Does size matter? Does hand and shoe size mean anything? Is it possible to love two different men? Is our legal system fair to minorities? Is the SAT test fair to our children? How do you know the sky is blue? Is education the key to success? Has rap music corrupted our children? Is reading fundamental? Is sex overrated or underrated? Can you tell if you'll sleep with a man within five minutes of meeting him? Are women still treated as second class citizens? If you had to change one thing in your life, what would it be? What's your best feature? Is there a God? Have you witnessed any miracles lately? Is the devil real? Can men ever be content with one woman? Are there guardian angels? Do we each have a soul mate? Does our attitudes affect our lives? Would you rather have money or good health? Would you do something illegal if you knew you'd never get caught? What's your secret? Would you betray a friend? Is love blind? Do you believe in same sex marriages? Would you alter your appearance? Do you believe in marriage? Can we ever truly be happy? Could you kill to protect your family? Is beauty skin deep? Would you rather be with a very handsome man or an average one? Would you stay with him if he was horrible in bed? Does the media taint our image of the world around us? Do you strive on drama? Can money buy you class? Will you do almost anything for your child? Can you tolerate great pain? Would you die to save your child? What really brings you joy? Could you be with someone if you mother didn't accept him? Could you lie in court to protect someone? What are your regrets? What do you see when you look in the mirror? Have you accepted Jesus as your Lord and savior? Do you literally believe everything in the Bible? Do you think certain people have the abilities to see into the future? Do you believe in past lives? Can you really tell the character of a man by the why he treats him mother? Can a woman raise a boy into a man? Is love colorblind? Would you choose a man over your child? What is your biggest pet peeve? Are you living life or simply existing? Who is the craziest relative in your family? What is the most daring thing you've ever done? Can you tell a lot about a person from her friends? Do you smile every day? What do you think of homeless people? If you died today, how would you be remembered? Are you a follower or a leader? What are your dreams? Who are your heroes? Do you take a moment to smell the roses? Do you love yourself? What do you believe in and would you die for it?

Dynamics of a Family

2009-10-05T21:05:00.006-04:00

"Drive carefully, be safe, and keep in contact with everyone on your drive home."

Those were the words that were spoken over the phone to me by my stepfather, Laymon, the day heavy rains hit metro Atlanta and caused historic flooding.

His words brought both comfort and tears. Why the tears you may ask? The tears came because I wasn't expecting anyone, besides my husband, to call concerned about my safety and well being. I know that's a drastic statement, but it's true. To understand that statement, you have to understand my family. The family dynamics.

Most of my family members, a very small group, do not freely express emotion; it comes hard for them. They show the world a tough exterior, whereby the interior is soft and cuddly. I realize I am very loved but I know this from actions, not words. Actions do speaker louder than words but sometimes. . . words are nice, too.

If my mom were alive that phone call would have been expected because she was always concerned about my safety, with me working in downtown Atlanta, and simply by me being a black woman in this crazy world of ours. My mom was a scary cat in some ways; she wouldn't take a shower unless someone was in the house with her. Many times I had to delay going home in order for her to take one. Yet, on the other hand, she'd stand up with a powerful and strong voice for anything she believed in and felt passionately about.

I've spoken in other blogs about the death of family members over the last few years. All the pillars of my family are gone and sometimes I wonder if things will ever be the same again. Then I realize I can't live in the past; we have to create new beginnings. Of course, I have my immediate family and cousins that I see on a non consistent basis. However, no one has risen to the position as the matriach and that is sadly missing.

Life has changed since I lost the "wise" ones whose words and comments kept me rooted, comforted and ground in family and tradition. I still remember how happy I'd be when my Uncle Robert would say: "You looking pretty today, gurl." "I miss you, when you gonna move back to Georgia where you belong. Ain't nothing like family." Or my Aunt Doll saying, "Come here and give me a hug. How you been doing? Still ain't no bigger than a pea. You need to come by and visit me more often. "I cooked some collards, chicken, corn bread and potato pie. Fix you a plate to take with you. Foils on the counter." "Or my Aunt Cat saying: "I saw you in the paper again, keep up the good work."

Mostly I miss my mom saying: "I'm proud of you." Or her bragging to her friends about me. Now. . . achievements come and I move on to the next goal without much fanfare because I don't expect to receive it.

Eventually, just a lingering emptiness remains, unspoken.

I'm so happy and rejoice in the fact that I'm raising a son and daughter who are not afraid to say, "I love you," or bestow hugs and kisses, even when their friends are around. That makes my day and places a big smile on my face.

Why Can't We All Just Get Along?

2009-09-17T21:15:00.012-04:00

I have a hobby. . . I have been a casual observer of life, people, relationships and their dynamics for many years now. It's fascinating work. As I've mentioned before, one of my favorite pastimes is to sit in a busy shopping mall or other heavily trafficked/traveled venue and simply people watch. Watch and observe. Oh, and listen. It's amazing what one can see and hear by simply sitting back; it makes for great visual and dialogue in my contemporary fiction books.

However for the life of me, in observing group dynamics, I've never been quite able to figure out why some people think they are better than others. Superior is another term. It's an amazing phenomenon. It shows in everything about them from how they relate or don't relate to others; it shows in their actions or lack thereof; it shows in body language, conduct and demeanor. Their nose is so high in the air that if a heavy rainfall came down, they would drown.

I've never understood how some people try to make themselves look better by attempting to make others feel small. Maybe it's simply human nature. Oh, it's done in various ways: by exclusion, by forming cliques, by subtle comments or looks. Most of all it's sad. If belittling others makes you feel bigger, better and superior, then you have serious self-esteem issues. Seek therapy as soon as possible. Run, don't walk.

One of the worst scenarios: I hate it, simply hate it, when another woman literally looks me up and down. From the top of my head to the bottom of my feet. . . and then doesn't speak.

Coming in a close second: Don't you just hate it when you have to almost force someone to speak to you? They are looking over your head, around you, through you. . . and then suddenly they see you. . . and speak without an ounce of sincerity.

Do until others as you'd have them do until you!

You see. . . I'm not a hater, never have been and never will be. Excuse me if I feel it is my moral obligation and duty to be positive, uplifting and real. That's who I am. Isn't that what genuine, nice people do? I get so much more out of smiling, speaking, embracing, mentoring, encouraging, engaging, developing. . .

I personally believe that no matter how far or how high you may go in life: what was in you to begin with will only shine brighter, be it good or bad.

Speaking from Beyond the Grave

2009-09-06T00:15:00.004-04:00

I am seriously thinking about starting a personal journal for each of my children, Brandon and Briana, for when I am gone.

No, I don't have any immediate plans to pass away anytime soon. God willing, I hope to live a long, healthy and productive life. However, I know from experience that the best-laid plans don't always pan out the way we would like them to.

My plans are to leave behind a journal so that my children can always have a piece of me with them. I hope that doesn't sound too morbid. I realize I will always, hopefully, be in their hearts and memories, but wouldn't it be cool to physically have a record/journal of my thoughts, hopes, fears, joys, triumphs, failures, loves, dreams and pains? They may not appreciate it now, but when they become adults, I think they will.

This is something I'd like to do because I recognize how I would love to have the opportunity to sit down and have one last conversation with my mother. Yet, I guess I do, in my very vivid dreams. I have always had so many questions that I was never able to ask.

Believe me, I don't usually sit around pondering my own immortality any more than other people, but occasionally I think about how life will be for my family when I have moved on to the next level.

I guess I have always had a slight fascination with death and dying. Who else would have had a Death and Dying class at 8:00 a.m., in the morning, winter quarter when I attended college? It was actually a great class and I took a lot from it. I wish I still had those old journal entries we had to write each and every day.

I've always believed in alternative ways of thinking and I've never allowed myself into thinking only "this" or "that" is the absolute right or wrong way. I've always questioned everything and thought of the what ifs, ands, buts and could ofs for everything in my life.

So. . . that's it. I've released it to the universe. It's a done deal as I have now committed to the project. Since I believe in seasons and cycles in life, I think I'll start this process in January 2010.

Swimming in Opposite Directions

2009-09-05T22:43:00.007-04:00

I am a Pisces. I have always been interested in astrology since I was a little girl and I read my first horoscope. Seems like my life has been a continuous quest to discover the "real" true essence of me. Electa Bridgett Rome Parks. Pisces is the symbol of fish swimming in two opposite, distinct directions.

It is still amazing that that categorizes me in a nutshell because I realize I can be such a contradiction to most. For instance, even though I have always been quiet and laid back; I'm also very opioninated and vocal (whether verbally or written) when I am passionate about a topic or subject.

I embrace everything steeped in tradition; in fact, sometimes I think I should have been born in another century and time. On the other hand, I'm not conservative at many levels. I'm always open to other ideas, beliefs, customs, thoughts and anything considered outside the box. I probably believe in "stuff" that some people would deem crazy. Again, I'm forever on a quest to fit all the pieces of the puzzle together. . . to figure out the great mystery of life.

I am most definitely a true, hopeless romantic; I admit it. You see, I'm a prissy, girly girl (woman) and I adore sappy, romantic movies. . . I have even been known to shed a few tears while watching them. The entire idea of a black knight in shining armour riding in to whisk me away is intriguing and exciting. Visualize the final scene of An Officer and a Gentlemen and Urban Cowboy. I'm not going to lie; I love, love, love those movies and have watched them countless times, with the same reaction. The concept of a soul mate, that one person made just for you, who completes and complements your life, man, that just takes my breath away. Blows me away. Yet, with all that said, I don't believe in happily ever after endings. I'm too much of a realist and I accept that no one is perfect. And. . . with imperfections comes grief and disappointments.

Contradictions are present everywhere in my life and have also been evident during my literary career. The genres I write under are classified as contemporary fiction and erotica. My novels are known for having elements of drama, volatile relationships, a topical issue and most of all, raciness.

From the outside looking in, my novels are everything that I am not (on some levels). And. . . that's the great beauty of being a writer. . . having the ability to create and structure characters the way I see fit. From day one, my novels have always carried my name, not a pen name. Electa Rome Parks is my real name, not a pen name as some readers have thought. I'm very proud of my creations, my babies, and have never felt the need to hide behind a false name. Side note: I do realize there are other reasons authors use pen names to conceal their identities.

Yet, from family and friends who know me well, at one point or another the inevitable question has been raised. Why do you write such spicy novels? Why don't you write inspiration or Christian fiction or literary? My answer remains the same: "Because I don't want to. Contemporary fiction and erotica speaks to me. I can deliver my messages and be just as effective this way."

No, my novels aren't literary masterpieces that can be broken down and dissected by the best literary reviewers of our times. I write for entertainment purposes and the desire that the reader takes away my underlying life lessons in the process. I adore writing about imperfect people living their imperfect lives in an imperfect world. No. Most of my novels don't have a happily ever after ending because life isn't that sweet, and cozy and tidy. Mishaps, dysfunctional relationships and sexual gratification is a part of all our lives. . . it's human nature.

Who knows? I learned long ago to never say never. Never say what you will never do or do. You never know where life will take you. Down the line, one day, I hope to write an inspirational novel because I think I have many life lessons to share. I think I'm what one would classify as an old soul and I connect with people because they sense a level of sincerity and realness in my demeanor.

In the meantime, I'm simply happy that my novels are touching lives, connecting with my readers based on the many emails, letters (yes, letters) and feedback I receive at signings. Puts a big smile on my face every time. My readers can relate to my imperfect characters doing what imperfect people do, including having sex (LOL) and that makes it all worthwhile.

Truth or Dare

2009-08-31T23:10:00.002-04:00

Truth or Dare

Truth or Dare. Have you ever heard of this game? It's a game my friends and I used to play, back during our college days. It was simple, fun and revealing. Very revealing. Truth or Dare is played by at least two or more people. The more participants, the more fun it is.

Participants sit in a circle, preferably on the floor (with favorite alcoholic beverage in hand. LOL.) and basically go around the circle, starting left, to each person by asking a question, which has to be answered with the absolute truth. Or the player can decide not to answer the question and therefore has to take the dare.

Sounds simple? It could be. . . depending upon how open you were to revealing your truths to sometimes, complete strangers or depending on how daring you were to perform unknown stunts (which were usually embarrassing in some form or fashion).

However, that was the absolute beauty of the game. You never knew what question was going to be asked until it was your turn and if you chose dare rather than answer the question, you had no option but to perform it. At that point, there was no turning back. You chose carefully and cautiously.

Some of the random questions were:

At what age did you lose your virginity?
What's your favorite sexual position?
Who is your least favorite person in this room?
What do you hate about_______? (someone in the room)
Would you participate in a threesome?

Remember we were college students, back in the day, everything was sexual in nature, and these were daring, bold questions to be asked and answered. The dares were usually extreme and never tasteful. Sometimes, one of the participants would take mercy on you and give you an easy question or dare. Sometimes, not most of the time.

Some of the random dares were:

Knock on the dorm room next door and moon the students in there.
Run down the hallway butt naked.
French kiss the person next to you.
Tell your secret crush that you like him or her.
Take two shots of liquor.

It's funny because I recall telling the truth the majority (98%) of the time. I rarely chose the dares. Me, quiet Electa, revealing her truths to a room full of strangers, male and female. Empowering. Friends would bring friends and you'd end up with a room full of people who didn't really know one another. Maybe you nodded or said hello in class or you saw each other at frat parties or from a distance across the yard. Maybe a basketball game. And now, suddenly you know their most intimate thoughts and secrets. It made you see that person in an entirely new light. Eye-opening.

I loved playing Truth or Dare and many late Saturday nights or early Sunday mornings would find me participating. . . and having the time of my life. Those were the days. When I look back on those years, I see myself laughing, unafraid, bold and free. Always laughing. Dancing like no one was watching. I had so many dreams yet to be fulfilled. There was magic in the air. The sky was the limit. To be young, single and the world as your canvas. . .

Most people in my inner circle would most likely describe me as very private. Not simply private, but very private, yet when I blog I reveal a side of myself, my truths, my reality, to the world. As seen through my eyes and my eyes only. I realized by playing Truth or Dare or via blogging, it allows me to place my truths on the table to be dissected, scrutinized, questioned and absorbed. And in the process I am free.

It's not about the reader; it's all about me and allowing my thoughts to be read, that gives them power.

In revealing your truths, you are liberated. You are stripped down to who you are as a person. You are vulnerable. There are so many fakers in this world we live in and most people rarely allow the true, real side of ourselves to be peeled back like an onion, revealing many layers, for all to view. Sometimes the truth is ugly. Sometimes it is painful. Sometimes it holds scars. Deep scars. But. . . on the flip side there is beauty as well. So much beauty. Good or bad, in the end, they are yours alone.

That is what blogging does and that is what Truth or Dare did for me and in the process I see myself for who I really and truly am. I've always said writing is my therapy. And I've always wanted to look in the mirror and know who and what was peering back.

Looking back, I didn't want to participate in outlandish behavior, so I rarely chose Dare. However, I had my moments when I reluctantly did. There were some truths that I wasn't ready to reveal to the world, wasn't ready to share. There were some that I hadn't worked through myself and chose to keep carefully hidden behind closed door until they were ready to be revealed. Just like in blogging, there are some topics I'm not ready or able to explore yet.

When you break it all down, everyone is a product of his or her truths. Our very own personal truths determine who we are as a person. Our truths determine what type of life we lead, how successful we are or not. Our truths are the very fabric or fiber of our being.

We are who we believe we are.

Hate Him or Love Him. . . you still have to admit. . .

2009-08-28T19:19:00.010-04:00

Terrell Owens is a lot of things -- narcissist, team cancer, fan of front-yard topless sit-ups during press conferences -- but you can never accuse him of not being fine.

Everybody who knows me KNOWS that I have been in full blown lust with Terrell Owens, AKA, T.O. since the first moment I saw his commercial advertising his not-so-popular reality show, The T.O. Show. Mind you, I'm not a sports fanatic or could even be described as an average sport's fan (sports is not my cup of tea). I had only heard of T.O. from listening to my husband speak of him and from random sport's reports; I knew T.O. had a tendency to run his mouth, alot. Translation: Terrell garnered a reputation as being arrogant, uncontrollable, not a team player and a loose cannon. When he opened his mouth to speak, there wasn't any telling what would come out and that made a lot of people nervous, I suppose.

All of that means absolutely nothing to me. I simply appreciate a fine, chocolate brother. . . and T.O. is definitely fine with a capital F. And oh, by the way, yes I did state that I am married. However, being married doesn't mean that a person is blind, deaf and dumb. I still have eyes.

Anyone who can look at T.O.'s photo and not readily admit his body is a piece of art, all by itself, is blind. I now understand and appreciate why artist will sculpture and paint canvases of people in the nude. The human body holds such beauty and strength.

However, I digress. The point of my tale is that after declaring my lust for T.O.(which in and of itself, makes me a cougar, I guess) and admitting my guilty pleasure is to watch his reality show every Monday night like clockwork, I didn't get a lot of love from my sistahs. Nope, I wasn't feeling the love, ladies.

I received responses and questions such as: I can't believe you are watching that show. How can you watch that show knowing his preference for non-African American women? Oh, I can't stomach his show and his taste in women. I can't stand, T.O. He's a joke. And the list goes on. . . I began to feel like I was betraying my sisterhood if I watched the show. However, lust beat out sisterhood. LOL.

I'm not going to lie; I admit I was a bit turned off as well when I discovered his preference appeared to be non African-American women (mainly white and exotic looking chicks). I definitely do not consider myself prejudice or racist in any form or fashion, however, I also do not condone when one person decides to date exclusively outside their own race. It's one thing to fall in love with someone outside your race, but it's entirely different to actively seek them out, exclusively. My mind can't logically wrap around that mindset. I seriously question how can you hate what you come from? I can't understand that rationale because even if you were hurt in the past, one bad apple doesn't make the entire batch rotten.

The amateur psychologist in me didn't miss the fact that during an episode of his reality show, T.O. spoke to a group of high school football players. In fact, they were from his former high school, a small town in Alabama. T.O. sadly spoke of not having a great high school experience.

1. He was only an average football player; never revealed an inkling of the beast he is on the field now.
2. He was raised by his grandmother (whom he loves dearly). Still, it's hard for a young person, especially a boy, to be raised by an older adult.
3. He was called names such as darkie, blackie, ugly, etc. This wasn't great for his self-esteem.
4. Girls were not attracted to him, at all.

So. . . now that he is successful, he's not attracted to women who didn't want him. Black women represent the rejection and hurt he suffered in high school, i.e. Wesley Snipes.

Just my take on things. . .

Bottom line: T.O. can date whomever he wants to (that's his prerogative); it's his life and he's rich, successful and powerful. And as an added bonus, he has a gorgeous smile and dimples. . . dangerous combination. T.O. can do whatever the hell he wants to. If the sistahs don't make him happy and he's not attracted to us, then so be it. However, that still doesn't take away for the fact that the man's body is a work of art!

T.O. is fine. . .and there is nothing sexier than a fine, chocolate, southern brother.

Amen. Amen.

Top Things I Hate

2009-08-22T22:12:00.005-04:00

It's Saturday night; I'm home alone and bored, so I thought I'd have some fun. Since I'm notorious for writing down lists of things to do, I thought I'd pen a different type of list. I really need to get a life, don't I? LOL

Top Things I Hate

1. People who will look you straight in the face and not open their mouth to say hello.
2. People who are ALWAYS negative; they never have anything positive to say about anything or anybody.
3. People who are selfish and feel that "it" is all about them.
4. People who won't say I'm sorry, even if they are the ones at fault.
5. People who are dream dashers. Enough said.
6. People who are downright haters.
7. People who try too hard to impress you.
8. People who try to keep up with the Joneses when they don't have a pot to piss in.
9. People who are quoting Bibles verses on Sunday and was in the club on Saturday.
10. Women who make the same mistakes over and over again concerning men.
11. I hate hypocrites.
12. Women who will put a man before their child or children.
13. People who think they know every damn thing.
14. People who are hung up on the light-skin, dark-skin, good hair complex.
15. People who think money can buy them class.
16. Women who would rather have a piece of man than no man.
17. People who think the world owes them.
18. People who think racism doesn't exist in our country.
19. People who are brown-nosers and ass kissers.
20. Women who support lazy ass men.

What's in a Date?

2009-08-18T19:12:00.001-04:00

What’s in a Date?

At this very moment, as I watch the rain fall in heavy droves in downtown Atlanta, I sigh. My heart is heavy. I feel as dreary, gloomy and gray as the weather. My soul is sad... My spirit feels alone. . . I see the rain as being symbolic of my tears and the state of my downtrodden spirit.

My mother’s birthday is fastly approaching and I always get this way around this time of the year, like clockwork. She would have been 66 on August 23rd. The passage of time never seems to make the realization any better to accept.

I often question the “whys” of life. Why did I have to lose my mother to breast cancer? Why me? It’s simply not fair that I didn’t get to spend the time I needed and desired with her. It’s simply not fair that I didn’t get to share precious moments and events in my life with her. I wasn’t ready to let her go. We never are.

However, no one ever said life was fair.

I’ve heard it all: It was her time, she’s in a better place now, it’ll get better with time, she’s no longer suffering, you’ll see her again some day. I realize people say these things and they do mean well, but. . . it doesn’t lessen the pain. Unless you’ve walked in my footsteps, you can’t truly understand. True, with time, life does move on; it has no choice but to. Yet, there is still a dull, piercing ache that reminds me at inopportune times how I am a motherless child. I’ll never have anyone say, “That’s my child” or “I am so proud of you.” I’ll never have that unconditional love again. My heart aches and I feel all alone in the world and then just like that, the moment passes and life begins again. Life goes on, regardless.

God has blessed me with “substitute” mothers at different times in my life, even though I didn’t realize it at the time. They gave me what I needed and was missing at that moment, a mother’s love and guidance. I am so thankful and grateful for their entry into my life. I guess when it is all said and done, at the end of the day, God really doesn’t give us more than we can bear.

When Sunday, August 23rd rolls around again, I’ll try to focus on the good memories, and there were many, that I keep close to heart. Memories that I will treasure until the day I die. I’ll share stories with my children who never truly got the opportunity to know their grandmother. They were very young when she passed. Mostly, I’ll give thanks and celebration for the years I did have with her and for the independent and loving spirit she instilled in me.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

Why Do Black Women Hate On One Another?

2009-08-18T19:09:00.001-04:00

Why Do Black Women Hate On One Another?

Why do black women hate on one another? That was the question which was posed by a local, Atlanta radio station personality. I was outraged that he (yes, a brother) had the audacity to broach such a totally bias and inaccurate discussion. Needless to say, the morning show and he in particular was bombarded with phone calls and e-mails. Deservedly so. . .

There is power in our words. Being a black female and fully knowing my daily reality, I get so frustrated and upset when I hear or read of such outrageous comments that perpetrate stereotypes to mainstream America. And when it comes from one of our own, it’s even more of a slap in the face. To say the least, it is dangerous and reckless to pose such a question on the airways.

In itself, the question is utterly ridiculous to assume that an entire race of women consistently cut each other down with our looks, gestures, comments, jealousies, etc. On the contrary, my experience has been the exact opposite. I’ve found the majority of the women I’ve dealt with to be uplifting, inspiring, and supportive. That’s my experience. My success is their success.

Maybe the radio personality should have taken a moment to speak with some real African American women.

Don’t get me wrong! I’ve met women who didn’t like me for unknown reasons. Oh sure, I’ve gotten the looks, you know the ones, the look starting from the top of your head to the tip of your shoes. Yeah, that’s the one. Andy you can just see it on their faces that they want to say, “Who does she think she is?” Yes, those insecure, narrow minded, jealous women do exist in our community. And guess what? They exist in other non African American communities as well. It is what it is.

Personally, I think it is irresponsible, uncouth and mostly dangerous of a person with the ability to reach millions on a daily basis to put out such a stereotypical question. Use your medium to showcase positive attributes. We get enough of the negatives simply by watching the evening news and to be honest, some people really do believe everything they see, read, and hear. If it was stated on V-103, then it must be true.

Okay, I know you have to keep your ratings high. . . to remain the #1 radio station in Atlanta. Is it okay as well to sell out your black women in the process? These are the same black women who are listening, supporting, loving you and giving you the high ratings to be the #1 radio station in Atlanta. Hmmm?

Even when you have a black mother and a black wife? Then on the other hand, to speak highly of how our non African American sisters support and nurture one another all the time. Bullshit. I’ve been in the workplace too many years to know that is misinformation and an inaccurate statement.

Why couldn’t the show give uplifting statistics as to how more and more AA women than men are completing degrees in higher education? Speak to how many black women are out earning our black men. Speak to how many black families are surviving based upon the blood and sweat of African American women. Speak to how our AA sisters are being placed in more and more positions of power in corporate America.

Do not use your power within the media to uphold stereotypes:

Black women are angry
Black women are over sexual
Black women hate our black men
Black women are too outspoken and aggressive
Black women want to be the man

Not everyone has the power to make a difference in a huge way every Monday through Friday. I implore these personalities to realize and accept this privilege, as just that, a privilege, with the greatest of responsibility and moral obligation to your community. Ratings aren’t everything!

A Star is Born

2009-08-12T21:51:00.007-04:00

I'm simply beaming. . . grinning from ear to ear. Actually, cheesing!

I'm so excited and I just can't hide it
I'm about to lose control and I think I like it
I'm so excited and I just can't hide it

I feel like a little kid on Christmas morning or maybe the never-ending night before Christmas. My anticipation is heavy in the universe; seems like I've waited forever for this moment. Today, I officially received my sonogram photo (my book cover). And the projected date of birth is December 29, 2009, a few days earlier than expected. However, from all indications, my baby girl, Diary of a Stalker, is healthy and strong, in the best of hands, and ready to make her glorious entrance into the world. She is being highly anticipated by many aunties and uncles (avid readers) eager to take that first glimpse. So, the countdown begins. . .

Diary of a Stalker will be my sixth book and I'm still as excited and antsy as I was when my first baby, The Ties That Bind, entered the world on a cold wintry morning. Wow! Do I really have a six-year old? My, but time does fly!

It is such an exhilarating feeling to see all my hard work, all my blood, sweat and tears finally pay off. To witness an idea/storyline start from scratch, simply from my imagination, to feel the characters grow stronger and more vibrant each and every day, to literally come alive in my mind, to see the final result. . . of my vivid imagination. . . to hold the finished product in my hands, there are absolutely no words to describe that feeling. It is such a nature high that it is truly magical, almost spiritual. Dropping a novel really is tantamount to giving birth and announcing your baby to the world.

I have always been a very protective, shielding and super sensitive mother because I want everyone to love and embrace my new child as they did her siblings before her. I want her to be welcomed into the fold and for everyone to "ooh" and "aah" over her and tell me how beautiful she is:} I sit back and simply beam like the proud parent I am. I can see no wrong, in my eyes!

After all is said and done, I wouldn't trade it for the world, being an author. I love my life. I love being a creator of characters that will live on long after I'm dead and buried. It blows my mind to think that someone, possibly 50 years from now, could be reading my books. I've always heard and know from personal experience that the pain of childbirth is all but forgotten as soon as the new parent takes a glimpse of the new baby. I am pretty sure that on December 29th all my worries, fears, misgivings and doubts will dissipate like a thief in the night and all that will remain is. . . joy, pure absolute joy.

So stick around as I prepare for my new addition. I'm sure I'll offer up plenty of commentary. Of course, my readers (I'm so possessive of you guys) are cordially invited to the baby shower. I can share all my tales of how she was conceived (LOL). I was sitting in a restaurant and I said, "I'm going to write a book about this fanatical fan who..." And now, she is almost here. Unbelievable.

Wow! I have a new baby coming soon and I couldn't be more excited or proud.

It Shall Be Done

2009-08-05T00:05:00.005-04:00

It's quiet.

Peaceful.

There's a tranquil gentleness that cloaks the essence of my home right now. It's a little after midnight. The bewitching hour. My husband and children are fast asleep; quite a contrast to the chaos and frenzy that is the typical evening mode of operation in the Parks' residence.

I should be in bed, preparing myself for another busy day. However, I feel almost compelled to write; to release my energy and words to the universe. It's almost like I have no control over the situation at hand. There is an almost urgent need for me to express myself, not tomorrow, but right now. Maybe my words will speak to someone else who is searching for a solution . . .searching for guidance.

In the stillness of simply listening, that's always when I get the answers. The answers, the quiet reassurance that I have not been forsaken nor forgotten. Most of the time, in the hectic lifestyle I lead, I forget or don't have the luxury to sit back, put my feet up, be still and just listen. . . listen to that inner voice that speaks only the truth that soothes and touches my spirit.

Even though I don't like to reveal my frailties, I admit, some of the time, many times, I'm afraid. Afraid of failure. Afraid of not reaching my goals, my dreams. Afraid that life is moving too fast. Afraid I'm not going to reach the greatness that is within me, in all of us. Terrified, I become paralyzed with fear.

To those of you who have followed my blogs, you've read my tales and thoughts about the publishing industry and life in general. Good or bad, I usually put it out there. My view of the world. Most of you have shared my ups and my downs, my triumphs and my defeats. I've revealed my ultimate goal. . . to become a NY Times bestselling author, to touch lives and make a difference. It is grand and lofty, but certainly not unachievable. All things are possible to those who believe.

I believe I have a gift of uplifting others, but a lot of times I fall short in doing so for myself. It's like I'm immune to my own inspirational words at times. I've been published by three major NY publishing houses, my alma mater, University of West Georgia, uses my story and photo in their orientation brochure, in a month I'm going to participate in a 4-day event as a featured author along with other A-list authors I have admired from afar before I even had a writing career, and tonight a young man came to me for advice and mentioned how much he admired me (that made my night). Even with a highly anticipated book dropping the first of the year and an impressive literary resume. . . still I have my moments of doubt. Fear sets in.

Tonight, in a moment of stillness, a peacefulness enveloped me and a great calmness settled upon and embraced me. . . because suddenly without a shadow of a doubt, I knew that everything would be okay. Don't ask me how I knew, I just did. It's as if I heard an angelic voice lovingly whisper, "Electa, God, didn't bring you this far to forsake you. This is your season and his will shall be done. Be patient."

I've handed it over, it's out of my hands. He knows my heart. . . and my pure aspirations.

IT SHALL BE DONE.

Another Life Lesson

2009-08-03T20:42:00.008-04:00

Another thing I've discovered about the beauty of life is that it doesn't matter how many years may come and go, there are always new life lessons to learn. Isn't that amazing? We are never too old to learn.

Lesson learned: Friends will disappoint you, but if the friendship is worth salvaging, then you will work through it.

I've determined one of my personality traits in dealing with people is that sometimes I tend to place them on a much higher pedestal than they deserve to be. When they disappoint me in one way or another, which they almost always do, the effect is much greater because I thought so highly of them to begin with.

Now,I understand that it is unfair of me in a lot of ways because no one is perfect and no once could ever live up to my high expectations, not even myself, if I were my friend.

When you really break it down, life is a series of people who come and go throughout your lifetime. You have to determine the ones worth keeping, the ones worth fighting for and the ones who have completed their journey with you.

As I've made my journey through life, I've had the opportunity to meet and befriend many wonderful people. Some have been with me for only a reason, others a season, but the life lessons they have passed on will last a lifetime and I am forever grateful.

Shy Like Me

2009-07-09T23:06:00.013-04:00

Shyness has a strange element of narcissism, a belief that how we look, how we perform, is truly important to other people. - André Dubuson

I've always been shy. It's as much a part of me as breathing. I was extremely shy as a child and when I grew into a young woman I lost a level of extreme shyness, but it is still here, just barely visible on the surface.

Growing up, I used to hate being shy and quiet. I felt like it was a bad quality or trait to possess. I always felt like I was missing out on something special by being reserved. I longed to be the life of the party, the belle of the ball or simply have the ability to capture the attention of a crowd of people who hung onto my every word. And of course, the boys that fascinated me the most were the ones who were popular and outgoing.

Over the years, people have mistaken my shyness for standoffishness, aloofness and snobbishness---it never crossed anyone's mind that I was simply quiet. My reserved nature made them unwilling to get to know me.

As a child, writing in my trusted diary and later journaling as an adult were my methods of expressing myself. What I couldn't express verbally, I expressed on paper. I still have the ability to place on paper my most passionate, personal thoughts and feelings...it always liberates me somehow.

I always thought it was strange that I was blessed with a good speaking voice (at least I've been told) and yet I was shy. All though school, my teachers and professors were constantly encouraging me to participate in public speaking competitions/events. And I complied and enjoyed them thoroughly. I even placed at these events. No one ever knew that those first three minutes in front of an audience were the most frightening for me. After that I was always okay. Even today that is one of the most difficult parts of being an author, the public speaking aspect. However, I find that after those first three minutes I'm fine and can talk to you from now to eternity about the joys and lows of being an author.

Even now I still consider myself somewhat shy or maybe just quiet is a better word, even though my family and friends would totally disagree. When I'm comfortable with a person my layers tend to fall away. There are actually two sides to me and depending on what role you play in my life, you may have only witnessed one or the other.

I've morphed into something quite curious. I often wonder how one can be shy, quiet, outspoken, opinionated and fiery. . . that's me all rolled up into one. If I'm passionate about something or someone, I can't be quiet---it's like I'm compelled to project it to the world. I'm very outspoken. I have strong opinions---we just have to agree to disagree, after we have debated the topic to exhaustion. Oh, I'm definitely fiery and sassy (just ask my husband) and sometimes I am too real for my own good. I tend to tell it like it is.

Yet when you break it all down, I'm usually the quiet, observant one who simply soaks up life and my surroundings like a sponge. And. . . get this, I've found that you don't have to be the life of the party to capture people's attention. I find there is something magnetic that draws people to a quiet aura; a pull that attracts them to my quiet spirit.

I finally realized that being shy is not so bad after all. Sometimes being shy helps you to see and appreciate the world through a whole nother set of eyes. Sometimes the best observations are made through silence, by simply listening.

Low-down, disgusting, heartless %$#$$#@

2009-07-09T21:25:00.012-04:00

I've learned over the years that by being an emotional person, I internalize a lot of stories I hear on the news or read online, especially if they deal with children and child abuse. Children are my weakness and those stories hit me hard. To the core of my being.

Roughly a week ago, I read an online article and it is still with me---I can't seem to get the graphic images out of my head because I am so upset and angered by the incident. With me, the only way I can let bad feelings dissipate is to write about them; writing acts as my therapy.

Before I get started, let me preface this by saying that typically I don't curse. Trust me, I have to be really upset in order for me to start with the four-letter words. So readers beware and pardon my french!

I am so freaking angry right now. A Duke University associate professor, purposely adopted a five-year-old black boy, for the sole purpose of making him a sex slave. Yes, unfortunately you heard me right! This is one of the most disgusting, cruel, heartless and totally evil scenarios I've heard of in a very long time. It breaks my heart.

This person, if you care to call this piece of shit a human being, along with his gay partner, intentionally went out of their way to adopt a black child "because they are easier to adopt." This mother%%#@&% then proceeded to not only have sex with this baby, while his prestigious university community thought he was noble and grand for adopting this child, but broadcast his acts online to his filthy, disgusting pedophile friends.

The final act of evilness resulted in him being apprehended by the FBI when he attempted to have another man (an undercover agent) travel to North Carolina from out of state to have sex with this baby for money. Yes, he was a damn baby pimp!

A moment of silence while you let your brain comprehend what I just stated.

This perverted motherf%#@&* deserves everything and more that he receives when his ass is carted off to prison. Authorities need to burn the key and then bury it six-feet deep. I hope he is shown not one ounce of dignity or humanity. Disgusting, low-down, heartless %$#!!%&. How dare he use and abuse this child for his sick, perverted pleasure and then have the audacity to broadcast it across the Internet? Sick bastard! How dare he take the innocence and trust of this baby? How dare he warp this boy's precious body and soul for life? How dare he? How dare he not value human life?

I am sick and tired of these grown ass men messing with our children. They are so sick they will travel to other countries to have sex with children, willing to risk everything. Unbelievable! I sincerely believe that they can't be rehabilitated and it's useless, unproductive and too expensive to lock their perverted asses up. I suggest they all get the same punishment: a snip and cut, with a very big, sharp knife.

"No body wanted him anyway". Like he was doing that child a favor. I wish I could personally place him in a locked room with African American male prisoners and have them give him a big dose of street justice. On second thought, no amount of punishment would be horrific enough compared to how this monster has damaged this child's life forever.

His ass will truly rot in hell!

You Are Cordially Invited To My Pity Party!

2009-07-06T23:27:00.022-04:00

No RSVP is necessary. Simply show up feeling defeated, discouraged and miserable with the world on your shoulders. Feel free to invite a friend or two. Misery loves company.

I'm knee deep in the midst of my very own pity party and I don't even know why. Or maybe I do know why and simply can't deal with it. I'm sure, as always, my impromptu pity party will be over and done with by tomorrow. As always, it starts with a bang and ends with a wimper.

I'm a moody person (wish to God I wasn't) and sometimes my bad moods simply slip up on me without any major announcement. I wish I could get some form of a warning: WARNING, WARNING, ELECTA! In just two days, you are going to get a doosey of a bad mood. Prepare yourself, hang on tight and hope for the best.

I feel. . . I feel like my life is in limbo. I also feel like a cry baby, like I wear my emotions on my sleeve and I admit, I feel totally powerless at times. I know where I want to go, I clearly know where I want to be, but the problem appears to be in the many paths to get there. It's so totally and utterly frustrating to feel you know your divine destiny and yet can't quite complete the mission.

I consider myself one of the most positive people I know. 95% of the time I count my blessings, give praises to God for my life, health and strength and I'm more than appreciative of the people, family and friends, in my life. I consider myself divinely favored.

The other 5% is where my problems begin and end. I feel like I'm my own worse critic and I never give myself enough credit or praise for the accomplishments in my life. I try not to compare my current situation with others because most of the time, 95% of the time, I realize I'm exactly where I'm suppose to be at the moment. What's meant for me is meant for me and no one else. And the absoulute beauty is that no one can change that. It is said, it is written, it is done.

However, lately I've wanted to speed up the process and arrive at my destination. And since I haven't (arrived) I come away frustrated and my faith dims. I begin to question my destiny and when I question that, I question who I am as a person. I feel lost and off balance. Instead of being positive and uplifting, doubt and fear set in. . . the twins of destruction.

I know for a fact how powerful our words and our thoughts are. We should use our words to change our situations and call the things that aren't as if they are. I truly believe that with all I know. However, sometimes I'm weak and I get tired of struggling and hoping and striving and taking three steps forward only to take one backwards.

I just want to arrive! Serve! Give back! Make a difference! Live out my destiny!

Is that asking too much?

Dream In Color

2009-06-30T23:37:00.004-04:00

I have this curious thing I can do. I first noticed it around 12 years old, so this ability has been with me for quite awhile. Well, it's not really an ability . . . I'm not quite sure what one would call it.

Occasionally, I can dream something and it comes true or I can dream about a deceased relative, as if I'm talking to them and they are alive and well. Throughout the years, I have had dreams in which an event I dreamt of, actually happened. It may not happen the very next day or happen exactly like the dream, but it happens. Typically within two weeks. Don't believe me? Ask my relatives. The joke used to be: "Electa, don't come calling me talking about a dream you've had. If I was in it, I definitely don't want to hear it." There have also been many instances of visits from deceased relatives either while I'm awake or via a dream. Curiously enough, I'm not ever frightened. I always say, "We have nothing to fear from the dead, it's the living we should be afraid of."

Roughly two nights ago I experienced such a dream. I remember falling asleep with my thoughts clearly focused on my mother. I had a lot on my mind, situations that were bothering me. When my mom was alive she was one of the few people I could talk to who always put my mind at ease with just a few encouraging words. I would call her up sad or upset about something or another and it never failed, with just a few words of wisdom, in a calm, reassuring voice, my soul would be put at ease. Just like that. I never doubted her wisdom. Usually, I'd hang up the phone with my spirit lifted, laughter in my soul and seeing the problem in an entirely new light. How I miss those conversations and having someone in my life who can reassure and make everything okay in my world.

Right before dozing off that night, I recall silently asking God to send me some sign that my situation would work it's way out for the best. In the past, I've always asked for my sign to be something specific, like a red butterfly or a purple flower. For whatever reason, this time I didn't specify. Being exhausted, I fell asleep pretty quickly. That's what I do. When I have a problem I sleep and sleep and sleep.

The next morning I awoke feeling refreshed and eager to start a new day with a burst of energy. All was well in my world.

As I started my day, I vividly recalled the dream I had the night before. Most of the time, I never recall entire dreams, only bits and pieces. In my dream, myself, my sister and my mom were sitting in the kitchen at her house. The kitchen always was the central gathering spot, the center of activity. I was seated in the bar stool/chair at the counter, Tresseler (my sister) was at the kitchen table and my mom, as usual, was cooking something on the stove and drinking a cup of coffee.

To be honest, I don't remember any of the conversation. I just recall we were laughing and having a good time being in each other's company. And most of all, I recall the emotion I felt in the dream. That was what stuck with me and greeted me the next morning like an old, long lost friend. For a brief moment in time, my mom was back and I felt the familiar blanket of security and peace back in my life. I experienced the sensation of pure, unconditional love embrace and envelope me like a silky cocoon. And I awoke with the feeling, though never spoken directly to me, that everything would be okay. This too shall pass. . .

The words softly caressed my soul, lovingly whispered in my ear. And you know what, it did pass.

Rest in Peace, Michael Jackson

2009-06-25T21:42:00.006-04:00

Breaking news: Michael Jackson, the King of Pop, is dead at 50 years old. I can't believe it. My mind simply won't or simply can't accept this. I've been in front of my TV since the news broke. Im watching CNN, BET and other media outlets as they take us through the brilliant life of one of, if not the greatest entertainer this century has seen. And. . . I keep repeating to myself, this can't be real, he's not really dead, I can't believe this. He was suppose to live to a ripe old age and pass away quietly in his sleep.

Michael's death has reinforced two clear facts: Life is short and when it's your time, it's your time.

Michael Jackson. My first celebrity crush. Who could resist the cute, brown-skinned boy with the large brown eyes and the beautiful voice? When he sang I just knew he was singing to me and only me. When he danced, he mesmerized me with his fancy footwork. I recall I was going to marry Michael, my sister, Randy and one of my cousins was going to marry, Marlon. We had it all planned out and were going to have a triple wedding and live happily ever after and become best friends with Janet.

From my early teenage years to young adulthood, Michael Jackson songs have been right there with me every step of the way. I have a MJ song for every boy I was in love with at one time or another.

In my reflection, I can't even begin to imagine what it must feel like to make a major impact on the entire world. Not just the United States, but the ENTIRE world. Some people are born to make a difference, to make a change. They are far and few between. Rare jewels. Michael Jackson was one of those people, imperfections and all.

RIP Michael Jackson. You are gone but will forever be remembered and discovered for generations and generations to come. True icons never die.

Truths About Being a Published Author

2009-06-22T18:54:00.005-04:00

“It has been a pleasure, an honor and a privilege to be a published author; it is one of the true joys and accomplishments of my life. Not everyone has the opportunity to realize a dream and I feel totally blessed to be in that number. During my tenure as a published author, I’ve discovered certain truths.” – Electa Rome Parks

1. You can’t please all of the people all of the time. Everyone is not going to love or even like your novels. And that’s OKAY.

2. Everyone, their mother and cousins will want to point out any editorial errors they may find within the pages of your books. Everyone’s a critic.

3. You don’t necessarily have to go to college to become a successful writer. I believe there are elements of writing that comes naturally, just like breathing.

4. Everyone thinks they can write a book. However, every book in the marketplace isn’t necessarily a good book.

5. Everyone thinks their life story should be a book.

6. Talent will only get you so far. Sometimes it’s all about being in the right place at the right time.

7. The right “handlers”, i.e. agents, editors, pr person, make all the difference in the world.

8. Every fiction novel has some element(s) of truth. Don’t believe the hype.

9. Writing is a business. Sales are the bottom line. No matter how talented you are, if you don’t have the sales, you won’t get the next deal.

10. There is such a syenergy when creative minds come together; it’s magic.

11. There is such a sense of freedom and joy in having the ability, from the very core of your soul to express yourself to the world; it’s almost like giving birth.

12. The new “renaissance” authors are making history and some are creating legacies.

13. Writing is a lonely and hard business to be successful in. Most of us can’t quit our day jobs.

14. Every author should pen at least one book that gives back to the universe in a positive, appealing manner to the masses.

15. You have to have a real love affair with the beauty and power of words in order to stick with it because the industry, like a lover, will take you through ups and down and sometimes screw you over.

Stop the Madness!

2009-06-22T18:50:00.005-04:00

“Four-year-old found dead while in the care of live-in boyfriend”

“Two-year old, with multiple internal injuries, found sodomized and dead in crib”

I am so sick and tired of reading in the newspaper or online or watching on the evening news about a child losing his/her life at the hands of a live-in boyfriend or a boyfriend who is babysitting for his girlfriend. It’s all so senseless and avoidable. I know I’m probably going to piss off some single moms out there, but I don’t care. Someone has to give these children a voice. They are the victims in these scenarios.

Stop the madness! I’ll say that again, in case you missed it:STOP THE MADNESS! I’ve never been a single mom, but if I were, I’d never, ever leave my child or children with a man I’ve just met and is dating. In many cases, these women are simply waltzing off to work, shopping or wherever and leaving their innocent babies behind to be slaughtered by men (monsters) they really don’t know. I don’t care if you think you love him, he loves you, he’s good to you, he throws down in bed. . . If you are a mother, single or married, in this day and age, you HAVE to be careful. There are no ifs, ands or buts. You have to be extra careful. We live in a world where there are a lot of evil predators lurking around and our children are their primary prey. Don’t hand over your children on a serving tray.

Women simply don’t know what they are bringing up into their homes---in some cases; it’s a sick pedophile or abuser. And they find out all too soon, usually later. Even if the children aren’t killed, they are damaged on a mental and emotional level from the abuse. It changes their lives forever. It breaks my heart to hear of these stories over and over again. Same script, different cast of characters. Women, mothers, wake the hell up, and quit trusting these monsters to be caregivers to your children. You are dating them, not your children. Quit being so trusting and accommodating for these men. I could go on and on about what low-life, trifling, slimy, disgusting mofos these men truly are. However, I won’t because we don’t have to give them power. We don’t have to give them our babies.

My children were probably two-years old before they ever stayed overnight at anyone’s home, family included. I wanted them to have the ability to talk and inform me of what was going on in any situation I placed them in. It’s a sad society that we live in; however, it is our reality. We simply don’t know what people are capable of. Sometimes it is stuff found in our worse nightmares. Female, and male children for that matter, aren’t safe these days. I’ve found that anybody can talk a good game and put on a nice demeanor for awhile;long enough to claim your trust and your children.

I’m not trying to sound preachy. . . I’m simply concerned. I’m simply passionate about our young people. I realize we can’t be with our children 24-7 and even with the best intentions and safeguards, bad things still and can happen. I’m encouraging women to act more cautious and responsible in who you are handing your children over to and bringing into their lives.

Emotions Rule Everything Around Me

2009-06-18T20:31:00.007-04:00

There are no ifs, ands or buts around it. . . I am an emotional creature. Always have been and probably will remain so until the day I die. I wear my emotions clearly sketched (or more like carved in stone) on my sleeve like a badge of honor, for the whole world to see.

I follow astrology and I'm a quirky Pisces. Pisces individuals are notorious for being overly emotional and hyper, super sensitive (that's me), so maybe that's where I get it from; it's my birthright! Translation: Emotions always rule out over logic with me. I sincerely don't know if that's a good thing or not. Depending on different scenarios, sometimes I've embraced my emotional side and other times I've cursed it and the impact it has had on my life. For example, being a published author and having a thin skin is not a good combination in this industry. I'm not going to lie. Words, actions and rejections do affect me. In the words of Erykah Badu, "I'm sensitive about my shit". However, I've gotten stronger and alot better with my reactions.

My internal mantra is: Don't tell me what you think, tell me what you feel. And believe me, I will. I will talk your ear off telling you how I feel, why I feel that way, how you made me feel and how I'd like to feel. Emotions rule everything around me. I admit it, ain't no shame to my game, I do cry over sappy movies and I've been known to sob over a sad story on the evening news involving a child (my one true weakness). I also love happy endings and happily ever after stories. They make me smile. . .and I experience joy deep within my soul.

I've chosen friendships, jobs and men based on my emotional state at any given point in time. On an emotional level is how I relate and connect to people on a daily basis. If I don't feel positive vibes emitting from you, then I'm not feeling you and will typically keep my distance. I've always had a knack for "feeling out" people and can usually tell within moments if we are compatible. It's like there is an invisible shield that protects me from negativity and ill will. (No, I'm not a super hero!) If it doesn't feel right, I usually won't do it.

I'm so entuned or channeled in with not only internal factors, but external as well. People with their constant complaining, negativity and drama bring me down. I find myself picking up on their funk and bad attitude. I pull back. On the flip side, if you make me happy and I bask in joy by being with you, then I want to be in your presence.

My emotions have even filtered over into my novels. When readers speak of the characters from my books, they always feel as if they know them. At book club meetings, they talk of them as if they are real, living and breathing people and the question always comes up: Is this novel based on a real person(s)? I always laugh, shake my head, and repeat that my books are just a product of my very vivid imagination. Then one day someone told me that that question is a great testament because I've created characters that come to life for my readers. My readers get emotional over my characters, even if it's a love/hate relationship. As someone stated, that's a good thing. It means I've connected at an emotional level to my reading audience.

Bottom line: Sometimes it can be an awesome feeling to experience life through emotional awareness.

Do You Love Me?

2009-06-16T20:31:00.004-04:00

Wow! I love finding old treasures. I think I wrote this back in 1997/1998, maybe earlier. One of my first serious attempts at poetry.

As I am wrapped protectively, like a helpless cocoon,
In your strong, dark brown arms
During the early morning hours
Right before dawn, the birth of a new day
When it feels so right, so good
There is no doubt that you love me.

When you whisper sweetly and seductively in my ear
With a voice bursting with passion and emotion
Whispers that feel like flutters
Of a beautiful and graceful butterfly taking flight
Straight to my heart
There is no doubt
That you love me with all your heart and soul.

As you hypnotize and lock me in your sexy stare
As you look lovingly
And longingly into my trusting brown eyes
Right before you release your love offerings
Into my eagerly, throbbing womanhood
Your eyes say it all.
There is no need to wonder.

When I feel you deep inside me as we mesh into one
One heart and soul
After you have consumed the sweet nectar from my altar
Unable to distinguish you dark limbs from mine
As we ride the waves of true ecstasy
Riding faster and thrusting harder
Deeper and deeper
Out and in
Oh yeah. . .
Galloping and reaching towards the shore of pleasure
You complete me and I complete you
At that moment, I know you love me.

When you listen, really listen
And care what I have to say
Even if you disagree
When you gently hold my hand as we cross the street
When you hand me one red, perfect rose
Kiss me on the cheek, just because. . .
When you wake me from my sleep, drool and all,
With passionate, wet kisses
For head to toe
When you automatically reach for me in your sleep
Or faintly call out my name as you sleep
I know, deep down. I know you love me. Don't you?

But how can you love me, tell me that,
When the same strong hands that bring
Me such joy and divine pleasure
Can at any unexplained, unknown moment ball into heavy,
Angry fists that strike my tender face with hard blows?

How can you love me when out of anger and frustration
Instead on leaning on me,
You take it out on me
With harsh words, loud slaps and smacks
That leaves bruises, black eyes, tender ribs and busted lips.
How can you love me and beat me? I need to know.

I love the caring, sweet man who leaves love notes on my pillow
Not the angry, obsessive, possessive one
Who brings me pain and much fear in his presence.
The one who wants to control me
The one who's word is my law.

Do you love me? No, you don't love me.
You don't know how to love me
Or anyone else for that matter
But better yet, why am I still with you?
Still blindly and faithfully giving you
My all, both body and soul
Someone answer that, please.

What If?

2009-06-13T16:08:00.005-04:00

Seems like I've been playing the what if game lately. I guess we all have at one point or another in our lives. It's only human nature, to be curious about other paths we could have taken.

Most of us recall reading Robert Frost's The Road Not Taken in high school English literature class. My favorite lines were:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I--
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

Recently, the query started because a girlfriend and I were discussing what if we had never gone to University of West Georgia (which at the time we attended, had a minority popoulation of 4%) and had gone, instead, to a predominately black university or college. We debated back and forth on the merits of each. However, when it was all said and done, we never stopped to think that if we hadn't attended UWGA, we wouldn't have met each other her sophomore year, my junior year and formed a lifelong friendship and bond.

Her what if question got me to thinking about other situations in my life as well.

What if I hadn't majored in marketing and instead pursued my dream of becoming a pyschiatrist?

What if I hadn't married so young?

What if I hadn't moved back to the metro Atlanta area?

What if I had decided not to have children?

What if I had married someone else?

What if I wasn't so emotional?

What if I had never accepted my first job in Chicago?

What if I had moved to New York?

What if I had followed my dreams early on to become a writer?

I could sit here and what if myself to death. The what ifs are all part of human nature. We are curious creatures. We always wonder what's on the flip side of the coin because the grass always look greener on the other side.

I've learned to not worry or concern myself with the what if factor because we are exactly where we are suppose to be at this point in time. No matter what path we choose, the rural country road or the interstate expressway, the destination will be the same. Life isn't a series of coincidences; it's all part of a masterplan. And God doesn't make mistakes.

Sleepless in Atlanta

2009-06-09T20:06:00.000-04:00

My anxiety level is at an all-time high.

I haven't been sleeping well the last few weeks. Lets see, my restless nights, where I toss and turn, am wide awake at four in the morning staring at my bedroom ceiling, or my mind is racing in hundreds of different directions, has probably been going on for at least two weeks now.

Each morning my alarm goes off and I awake tired, with huge circles underneath my eyes. Not a good look. Not at all. These restless nights have occurred periodically throughout my adulthood. For some unknown reason, at least consciously anyway, I go weeks at a time with little to no sleep.

I recall one time, many years ago, I hadn't slept in days, but still couldn't rest at night, so I tried to wear myself out (as if I already wasn't) during the day by exercising relentlessly. All for nothing.

My mind simply wouldn't cooperate with my body no matter how tired I was. In the end, eventually, I slept again. But it made me realize, whether we are aware of it or not, the mind will let us know through physical symptons when something isn't quite right mentally.

I'm anxious. That's the bottom line for me. And I know exactly why I am this time around. My newest novel, Diary of a Stalker, drops the first of next year. It seems like that date is far, far away, but believe me, it will be here before I know it. There is always plenty of pre-preparation on my end. I haven't had a book to drop in two years and now I'm going into anxiety mode, at top speed, 100 miles down the expressway.

After the easy part, the actual writing of the book, that's when the hard work begins---marketing and promotion---announcing your baby to the world. I'm a marketing major so I absolutely love the entire concept. But I haven't been in marketing/promotions mode for two years now and believe me when I say that I take it to a whole nother level.

I literally live and breath making my book known to the entire universe, to infinite and beyond! I take it very seriously and it takes it's toll on me physically. I burn out quickly.

Then there are the typical anxiety stages of wondering and worrying if the reading audience will embrace this book as they have done with all my others. Don't get me wrong,I have a large and strong following, but it has been two years. Like any good mother, we want our new "baby" to be accepted, acknowledged and embraced into the fold just like his/her siblings. There are many silent questions of what ifs that my mind engages. Failure is never an option for me.

In the meantime, I'm losing sleep because I have tiny butterflies swooning back and forth inside my stomach. On some level I realize that with any baby all I can do is be loving, nurturing and giving of all opportunities to suceed. After that it is out of my hands. But I can say that when a "baby" is raised up right, with the proper ingredients for success, they usually do not disappoint.

Hopefully, I'll only have a few more nights of counting sheep. . .

Signed,

Sleepless in Atlanta

I Miss My Mommy

2009-06-08T22:08:00.005-04:00

I miss her so much that my heart aches. A slow, dull, never ending ache. It never really gets better with time, not really. The pain is always there, festering just beneath the surface, ready to resurface with a memory, a song, a place, a smell. I think Mother's Day, August (her birthday month) and December (her favorite time of the years) are always the worse.

Sometimes I daydream about what I'd do or say if I could go back in time and spend just one day with her, before the sickness came and nothing was ever the same. There is always that one moment in time that changes everything forever.

Sometimes I wonder what she'd say to me if she were able to regarding my life, my family, my dreams. . .

I fantasize it would be something like this.

Dearest Electa,

I miss you too! More than you will ever know. However, I'm never far away. You can talk to me whenever you want to, just speak, be still and listen to your spirit and I'll answer.

I just want you to know how proud I am of you. I'm not surprised at your success though. I just knew all those years when you were a child, with your head buried in somebody's book, lost in another place and time, I just knew one day you'd pen your own. Even then I saw just how much joy and peace you took from reading and forever
scribbling something on pads or your diary.

I just want you to know that you are a great mother and my grandchildren not only love you but they respect you as well. You've instilled in them a spirit of caring, giving and sympathy for others who are less fortunate. They have their heads on straight, believe in God, and will grow into productive, successful adults who have much to give back.

You and your husband make a great team. He is so supportive of you and the two of you have just the right amount of balance that plays well off of each other. You made a wise choice in choosing your mate.

Electa, you have to ease off on yourself though. Don't be so hard on yourself. Allow yourself to breath. You've got to give yourself credit where it is due and you have to start celebrating your successes as opposed to shrugging them off and moving on to the next project. You work hard for all you achieve, no one has ever handed you anything on a silver platter. So slow down and enjoy your successes!

You have your head on right, even as a young child you were wise beyond your years, an old soul. You know who you are and how to treat others. You have never been a follower or gotten pulled in by peer pressure. You're secure in who you are as a person. You're not afraid to stand up for what you believe in and you honor those who have come before you and paved the way.

Continue to hold your head up high and live your life to the fullest because there are no second chances. There aren't any dress rehearsals in real life. I know you miss me, but remember it was simply my time. My path was laid out before me just as yours is. Know that I'm never far away and I'm always looking out for you and yours. I can never be gone when I live within your heart and am alive within your memories.

Continue to make me proud and be the phenomenal woman that you are. We'll meet again, all in God's time. In the meantime, make a difference. . .

I love you and always will,

Mommy

A Reason, Season and Lifetime

2009-06-06T00:24:00.003-04:00

I believe - that we don't have to change friends if we understand that friends change.

I believe - that no matter how good a friend is, they're going to hurt you every once in a while and you must forgive them for that.

I believe - that my best friend and I can do anything or nothing and have the best time.

I'm a firm believer that people are placed into our lives for a reason, season or lifetime. I'm very picky about who I let into my inner circle, always have been. In fact, I can count on one hand the number of people I consider a true, genuine friend. I have many people who've earned the title of acquaintance, but only a few wear the coveted crown of dear friend. That title isn't won quite so easily. My friends have to be worthy. By worthy I mean: supportive, caring, loving, positive, genuine, real and lots and lots of fun. Bottom line, they have to have a good spirit and be good people. No fakes, backstabbers and crabs in the barrell allowed.

However, I understand that sometimes friendships are only meant to last for a reason. I've experienced such a friendship. A woman came into my life just when I needed her type of friendship---right around the time I was griefing and trying to get over the death of my mother. Pat was just who and what I needed at the time. She had a wonderful, gentle, caring and nurturing spirit and we clicked instantly, thrown together through work. Over the next few years, we became the best of friends and I can honestly say she brought a lot of joy into my life---right when I needed it. We had great conversation, shared similar views about life and laughed our asses off.

After all was said and done, we went out separate ways due to our positions being downsized. She moved out of state, I transitioned into another position. We stayed in touch for a brief period of time, but you know how that goes, it was never the same. Eventually, we lost contact. Years later, I thought about her and realized she was my reason. Pat was my reason. She was brought into my life to help me, teach me, provide wisdom, help me move past the grief. When her work was done, life moved her on. . . in a different direction. I think of her often and miss her.

On the opposite end of the spectrum are the lifelong friendships. They are in it for the long haul and I have one of those friends too. Sharron is the friend who knows me almost as well as I know myself. She is the one who was here before the hubby, before the two kids, when my dream was just that, a dream. She's been through thick and thin with me, she's seen my ups, my lows, my triumphs, my disappointments, my good moments and my bad. Sharron has known me since I was 19 years old and witnessed my many moves over the years. She knew my mother before she passed; she knows my sister. She's seen my moodiness and shrugs it off, she's the one who has supported my dream of being a writer since it first entered my thoughts. We've shared too many long conversations to count. Conversations that only good, true girlfriends can have and share during the midnight hours over a glass or two of good wine.

Sharron is the one who loves me even when she doesn't like me. She's the one who has argued with me through emails and made up, via emails, days later. She has witnessed the not so nice side of me when I get pushed into a corner. She has seen me get my heart broken, act a fool, lust over a man, feel sorry for myself, cry through my pain and laugh until my stomach aches with joy. She's watched me dance like no one is watching. Through it ALL, she's been here. She's a keeper.

Then there is the middle category. The season. These are the friends who are in our lives for a brief timeframe. They've entered our lives to teach us a life lesson, to help us see ourselves through their eyes, to grow and mature as a person, to gain some knowledge. . . and then like the fall, winter, spring and summer, when the seasons change, when the leaves fall from the trees and the buds bloom and turn to flowers, they are gone. Hopefully, with their departure we are a better person from knowing them. I've had these friends come into and exit my life throughout my lifetime as well. There have been more than enough. And I've learned from them all. I'm always grateful for what I learned, experienced and gained from them. With some, I couldn't tell you why the friendship ended. It was like it ended it's course and we parted, went our separate ways. The good memories always outlast the bad in my mind.

Life lesson: Friendships are precious gems from God. To have someone enter your life, make a difference, leave an impression and share a moment of your time here on earth, to really connect. . .that's a gift, women bonding is a wonderful, special experience. . .that's powerful

"Make Your Haters Your Motivators"

2009-06-05T22:12:00.002-04:00

"Make your haters your motivators"

That was the tagline a local Atlanta radio personality used to deliver to her listening audience at the end of her show each and every day.

It resonated with her listeners because many of us know of or at some point in our lives have dealt with such people. Make your haters your motivators. These are words I attempt to live by.

If there is any one thing I've learned in my years of living, it's that everyone is not going to like you. That's life. It is what it is. It doesn't matter how kind, considerate and giving you may be, you will still have haters in your midst. Even Jesus Christ had his.

There are always, unto the end of time, going to be those people who strive on attempting to drag you down, destroy your spirit, belittle you with their negative words and/or actions. I admit, years ago, sometimes these people succeeded. Succeeded in making me doubt myself, second guess my dreams, making me unsure. Not any more! Those days are long gone. I am too confident in myself, who and what I am, and have too much knowledge as to where my blessings come from. I am divinely favored. No one, not even distractors, can take that from me.

With age has definitely come wisdom. I've learned during my journey as a writer, that you cannot please all the people all the time. Truer words have never been spoken. I realize not every reader will enjoy or appreciate what I've written. So be it. I know what I pen is not for everyone. I respect and accept that. I wish some readers would respect and accept that every author is different in how they choose to tell a story.

Every author can't be the reincarnation of Toni Morrison, Bebe Moore Campbell or Alice Walker. If I could write like them, I probably would, but I realize and accept the fact that I can't. God didn't give me that literary gift, but he gave me my talent nevertheless, ones just for me. And I'm constantly making efforts to grow and continually improve as a writer.

It used to floor me if I was asked why my books are so racy and weren't chocked full of positivity, but filled with much drama. I'd answer that life isn't always chocked full of positivity either. My novels reflect what is real, valid and prevalent in the AA communities, any community for that matter. My books touch upon issues of domestic abuse, molestation, addictions, dysfunctional families and the list continues to grow with each new novel. These are real, everyday issues that are encountered in many communities. Don't get me wrong, it's not everyone's story, but it belongs to some of our brothers and sisters.

Life is not always tidy, neat, clean and sparkling with happily ever after endings. I consciously make the decision for my novels to reflect the real world we live in, and hopefully, after my readers get through the drama and spiciness within, they realize there is always a lesson---a life lesson to embrace.

I haven't quite figured out why some people choose to waste energy on attempting to make others feel less than them. Maybe they harbor feelings of envy, jealousy, lack of self esteem, etc. These haters feel bad about themselves and desire to cause pain in other's lives as well, in order to reflect their own pain. I really don't know what the reasons are and I really don't care.

I can only make an effort to make my haters my motivators because I'm not wasting any of my positive energy on them. Their words ignite a fire underneath me, motivating me to reach higher. My personality, my life, my talent, my gift, my passion is what it is---take it or leave it. The choice is yours

Tick Tock, Tick Tock, Tick Tock

2009-06-05T22:10:00.004-04:00

Tick Tock, Tick Tock, Tick Tock

That seems to be the rhymn I'm hearing in my mind lately. The sound of time swiftly whizzing past me at a frantic, unrelenting pace. It makes me anxious because there is much I feel I have to accomplish during my lifetime. It's as if there is this internal clock, rapidly tick tocking, inside me that constantly pushes me to succeed, to reach higher. It's much like the biological clock some women feel when they desire children at a point in their lives but do not have any yet.

Tick Tock, Tick Tock, Tick Tock

For those of you who have read my previous blogs, well, then you know I'm impatient to a fault---something I'm working on. I'm still a work in progress. However, the reality is that that still doesn't take away the fact that I feel like I'm behind schedule. I haven't checked off the top items with a big, black, bold marker on my present "TO DO LIST."

1. Be on the NY Times Bestsellers list
2. Make a big difference in the lives of young women
3. Leave my mark on the world (I don't want to die in a whisper. I want to die with a major roar).

Tick Tock, Tick Tock, Tick Tock

My spirtual intellect realizes that all things happen in time. It's just not my time yet. I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be at this moment in time. I'm going through because I'm supposed to be learning a lesson and coming out on the other side, all a wiser, stronger, better person. Then I can be a blessing to someone else.

I've always felt I was destined for greatness! And I say that without an ounce of arrogance or superiority in my spirit. We are all entitled to do great things in one form or another. God has given us that gift. I understand HE has given me a gift of writing and the ability to connect with people because I carry no pretenses, illusions or ill will in my heart. I'm real. It's all part of HIS grand masterplan.

I know there have been many times in my life when things simply happened for me---I was in the right place at the right time. Someone in a position of power or authority took a likening to me. Everything simply lined up in my favor like a domino effect. All because of divine intervention.

Tick Tock, Tick Tock, Tick Tock

Sometimes I doubt myself because things aren't happening fast enough, then fear sets in. I step back and realize all I have the power to do is to keep writing and keep keeping on. Everything else is in HIS hands. I have to take a calming breath, release, and know that HE didn't bring me this far to forsake me. HE has a masterplan for each of our lives. I rejoice in that, take great comfort in that.

Then I find myself playing the blame game; passing the buck. Shrugging off responsibility, accountability and ownership. "Well, the industry has drastically changed." True. "The industry is overly saturated with new authors." True. "The industry doesn't respect AA authors by giving us the same marketing budget to really get our names out there." True. The list goes on and on into infinite.

However, when it is all said and done, it simply doesn't matter. In the end, no one, I repeat, no one, can take away what God has in store for me. It is written, it is said, it is done.

Tick Tock, Tick Tock, Tick Tock

I may not arrive at where I'd like to be in my timeframe, but I have no doubt that I'll arrive and on time in God's world. For HIM, two years is like a minute. I'll arrive with my luggage in tow, ready to complete my mission; I feel that in my spirit, in my core. And if I feel it, believe it, then it's done. Amazing.

I used to compare myself to other authors, other bestsellers, A-list authors. I have my favorites, ones I admire just like any other reader. Their success stories gave me hope, inspired me, lit a fire underneath me and made me want to be just like them. To have all the glory and all the fame. Then one day I woke up and realized, it's okay to admire someone and to take inspiration from them, but I can't aspire to be like anyone else. I'm me and there is no other! I'm an original in all my attributes and imperfections. There is greatness within me and the world had better get ready.

Their story is theirs alone and no one can walk in their shoes. My path to success may be totally different from theirs. Maybe I won't take the same fork in the road as they did. Maybe I'll have more struggles. Maybe I'll be tested. So, I have to have my own voice and be true to myself. I have to be me.

Tick Tock, Tick Tock, Tick Tock

I'm still waiting to check off the items on my "TO DO LIST". It may not happen today, not even tomorrow, but I know with every fiber within my soul that somewhere down the line, I'll be able to check em off. What's meant for me is meant for me and it'll happen in it's own good time.

The Secret Life of Kids

2009-06-05T22:09:00.004-04:00

Close your eyes, don't peep, and think back to when you were a kid. . . look at your own children. . . they all have one thing in common. They are dreamers!

When someone asks a child, "What do you want to be when you grow up?" The typical child can recite a laundry list of professions. "I wanna be a doctor and a rapper and a football player and an astronaunt, oh and I wanna be a famous singer."

What is so powerful about the answer is that in their heart of hearts, they truly believe it. They believe they can be whatever they want to be. It's only later, when the harsh realities of life catch up with them, when they cast aside the naiveness of youth, it's only then that doubt sets in.

I think that's why I simply adore children when they are between the ages of 5-10 years old. They say the darnest things, they have wonderful imaginations and they STILL are dreamers. They truly believe in dreaming big, reaching for the stars and the sky is the limit.

One of the great things about dreaming is that it is a powerful tool. Once you visualize a dream, work hard towards achieving it and believe in it. . . the sky really is the limit.

So, why at some point does this ability to dream AND believe vanish from our pysches? I really don't know. Most of the time, by the time children, our children are teenagers, they have placed limitations on themselves. They start to think, "Well, maybe I can't be an attorney or Mom and Dad just said I could be anything I set my mind to." What happens?

I can honestly say, as a child, I was one of the biggest dreamers you could ever imagine. I dreamed big dreams in living color projected like they were on a movie screen. These dreams traveled with me well into my twenties, but somewhere along the way, I lost my vision. I guess life was beating me down. I was picking up on all the wrongs in an unjust world. I lost my ability to imagine and create my life. Along the way, I forgot that I am the creator of my own existence.

It's years later and I never regained my ability to dream quite so clearly and vividly. However, I didn't lose all of it. Somehow, I retained some of those traits and I'm able to look beyond the tragedy that can exist in life and instead choose to see the beauty and wonder of it all. Life is so amazing, so short and so full of opportunities to leave your mark and make a difference.

I've had dreams of many things during my lifetime:
1. I dreamed of a career---I received it
2. I dreamed of falling in love---I got my wish
3. I dreamed of having two beautiful children, a boy and girl. Guess what? My dream was answered.
4. I dreamed of having positive, inspiring, support, and loving people in my life---check, I have them
5. I dreamed of seeing the beauty in each and every one of us---I try each and every day to seek that out
6. I dreamed of living my life like it's golden---that is my goal each day
7. I dreamed of being a writer and reaching people through my words---check, done, still working on it
8. I dreamed of being the best person I can be---again, I'm a work in progress
9. I dreamed of being a good wife, mother, sister, daughter, friend---I can only hope that I've acheived this
10. My dreams are endless. . .

I'm so grateful that I didn't totally lose my ability to find the child in me. . . to believe I can do any and everything I set my mind to!

So, the next time you ask yourself, "What am I going to be when I really grow up?" What will your answer be and will you truly believe it?

My Aha Moment!

2009-06-05T22:09:00.003-04:00

A couple of weeks ago, as Oprah would say, I had a treasured AHA moment.

It happened as I was speaking at an Open Campus event for teenage mothers between the ages of 14-18. Some of the young ladies were already mothers and others were pregnant.

The young ladies were participating in Literacy Week and as I spoke to them regarding my personal love of reading and writing, I felt such a connection and sense of purpose envelope me. There was such an amazing energy in the room that embraced me in pure love. Before my speech, at home, I had gotten down on my knees and prayed that my presentation be well received and that I be able to reach someone and plant a seed in their mind and heart.

I've spoken to groups of people many, many times since I've become a published author; that comes with the turf. However, this was the first time I had ever spoken to a group of young women. Mainly because my books tend to be racy and deal with adult relationship-based issues. My target market isn't the young adult market even though I am very much aware that they read my books.

I will say that though my books have adult themes, they do address prevalent issues found in our communities, such as domestic abuse, molestation, and dsyfunctional behavior to name a few themes. All the issues that young women experience, witness or deal with, some on a daily basis.

This event had a different spin because I was given the opportunity to share MY story, how I took my love affair with reading and writing and turned my dream into a career as a professional writer of contemporary fiction.

To witness the responsive, eager faces that held onto my every word was refreshing and edifying. Each girl had her own story as to how they were in the situations they were in, but there wasn't any judgment on my end. I felt we were exactly, at that moment in time, exactly where we were meant to be. I certainly think there is something powerful in the female bond.

I believe if we ask for it, it shall come. I can honestly say that my two great passions are writing and mentoring to young girls. Why young girls? I've always felt the need to reach out to them. The female species is so vulnerable to abuse, violence and suffering in this world we live in. We don't have to look at other countries for horrific examples, we can look in our own backyards.

So, I've always felt this burning desire in my spirit to reach out, take action and give back. That's why I was a Big Sister in the Big Brother, Big Sister Program because I wanted to be a mentor. Children will listen; they are like sponges and they really want to learn. They simply need someone positive and caring in their lives to make a difference. That's really all it takes. Someone to listen, care and share.

Ask for it and it shall come. I prayed for it and sure enough I received my request in two weeks. . . to speak to a room full of teenage mothers who are trying to complete their educations with the added responsibility of motherhood.

The universe places us exactly where we need to be and having the opportunity to make a difference. . . to be able to plant a seed. . . to touch a young life. . . AHA.

Priceless!

Guess Who's Back?

2009-06-05T22:07:00.006-04:00

Never judge a book by its cover. . .

Xavier Preston is tall, dark and handsome and the problem is that he knows it. He's a best-selling author who is accustomed to adoring female fans, both young and old, flirting with him, throwing themselves shamelessly at him and trying to get between more than the covers of his novels. And he has always been more than willing to accommodate their needs and desires. However, his womanizing days have finally ended. . . he's engaged to a beautiful woman, Kendall, and he's decided to walk the straight and narrow. Or has he?

From outside appearances, the very stunning Pilar has it all---a great career, a beautiful home and a trust fund that keeps her financially secure. However, looks can be deceiving. All that glitters isn't gold. Pilar is searching for her one, perfect soulmate. And she thinks she has found him in Xavier. She believes in going after what she wants with a vengeance. . . and she wants Xavier. And that is not negotiable.

When Xavier meets his fanatical fan, Pilar, who declares herself his #1 fan, he gets much more than he bargained for. What starts out as a one-night stand quickly spirals out of control and into a dangerous game of obsession and pain with both parties playing to win.

Think you know what goes on behind the literary scene? Think again.....

DIARY OF A STALKER by Electa Rome Parks. . . coming soon. . . January 2010!

Songs in the Key of Life

2009-06-05T22:07:00.005-04:00

Writing is my therapy, always has been. When I'm sad, I write. When I'm happy, I write. There's nothing more comforting than pouring out my feelings on paper or the computer. When I'm sad, writing releases some of the pent up hurt and when I'm happy, writing captures the excitement of the moment. Writing expels the essence of me.

All that to say, I feel the urge to release some emotion tonight. I attended a funeral, a Homegoing Service, about two weeks ago. The church was packed to capacity with folding chairs in the aisles and people standing along the walls. There were flowers as far as the eye could behold. The deceased died of lung cancer and many family members and friends stood at the front of the church and spoke highly of the dearly departed. It was strange to see her life summed up neatly on the church program.

I thought to myself, if I died today, would the church be packed for me? Would people speak fondly of my life? Would I have made a difference? Would the legacy I hope to leave live on?

Life is short. And lately I feel as if I can't do enough fast enough. Anyone who knows me knows that patience is not one of my virtues. I try but patience is something I'm still working on. Whatever it is, I wanted it yesterday.My dreams are no different.

I have so many dreams and aspirations.I've been lucky to discover what my true passions and gifts are: writing and mentoring, mentoring young girls to be exact. Many people go their entire lives and never figure out exactly what they were meant to do during their short stint on earth. So, I'm one of the lucky ones.The hard part is actually achieving them.

I pray. I've always believed in the power of prayer, just as I've always relied on the power of words. I constantly pray for God to help me realize my dreams to the fullest and to be an inspiration to someone, to make a difference. One of the greatest fears I have is that I live life and never touch anyone, never make a difference in anyone's life. For me, that would be tragic. . .To die with a whisper. . . never quite having the chance to roar or soar with the eagles.

I guess what I'm saying is that I pray that God will guide me along the right path to fullfill my destiny. I pray that he will place people in my midst who will aid me in achieving. I pray that I'll continue to grow in my craft. I pray that he'll have me at the right place at the right time. I realize he knows what is in my heart, that my heart is pure and unselfish, and that I'm willing to work hard, be persistent, stay focused and determined on the road to victory.

I realize there will be many peaks and valleys along the way, several ups and downs because I've experienced them and they have only made me stronger and wiser. STRONGER AND WISER. What a blessing. I wouldn't change any of my life experiences because they have made me the person I am today.And you know what, I like the person I am today!

Everything happens for a reason and I feel my time is coming. I can sense it is just around the corner, already made it across the bend. I just have to remain patient. I've always been a dreamer. I believe I can do anything I put my mind to. That never left me from childhood. I never stopped dreaming and believing.

What was meant for me, I will achieve. And when it is all said and done, hopefully someone will say, "Electa stood for somethng. She believed in love, truth and doing what's right. She touched many through her books and lived by the motto: to whom much is given, much is expected.

What makes me happy?

2009-06-05T22:06:00.002-04:00

What makes me happy?

Simple question. It's a question that I often ask myself. Especially when things aren't going well.

Today is one of those days.

I really can't explain why I'm in a bad mood; I'm just in that state of being. Nothing was said, no one stepped to me the wrong way, I'm not sick, I'm not hurt, I didn't have an argument with anyone. . . today is just one of those days.

I realize it doesn't take much to make me happy. It never has. That I know for sure. I'm not a materalistic person, never have been. I don't own a large home, drive an expensive car nor have a lot of overpriced knick knacks in my space.

It doesn't take much to make me happy. If I sat down and compiled a list, it wouldn't be extensive because I'm a very simplistic person, that works for me. Helps me to get past all the superficial so that I can realize my divine destiny.

My children (Brandon and Briana) make me happy because I can clearly see the wonderful adults they are growing into and knowing I had a hand in that, wow, that brings me joy. I know without a doubt that they are confident, intelligent, compassionate young adults who will grow up and be productive citizens of the world who will make a difference, no matter how big or small. They are my legacy.

Love makes me happy, basking in it makes me glow. Having someone in my life (my hubby) who supports me, encourages me, lifts me up when I'm down, laughs and cries with me, provides a shoulder for me to lean on. . . that is happiness. Being in love brings me a sense of protection, security and clarity. The act of love, knowing I can bond with someone on such a spiritual, emotional and physical level. . . that brings happiness.

My immediate family is a great source of happiness. We have history. Who else can say, "I knew you when you were knee high to a cricket?" Who else can still call me my childhood nickname? "Hey, Sweetpea!" They love me unconditionally like no one else ever will. I can always go home with no regrets. They love me just for me, take me like I am. Family keeps me on point and focused. That makes me truly happy.

My friends, my genuine, real friends make me happy because they know me, point blank. They know my moods; know when to step back and leave me alone and know when to offer a tissue for a good cry or laugh until our stomachs ache with laughter.They make me happy because we've created many happy times together. That's magical.

Being real; keeping it real. . . that makes me happy. I don't have a fake bone in my body. If I like you, then I like you. If I don't, there is no pretense and life goes on. I can spot a faker a mile away. WARNING: I DON'T NEED FAKE ASS PEOPLE IN MY LIFE. I don't need to cut down others in order to make myself appear larger than life. I don't desire to be the loudest to be heard or seen. My actions and quiet reserve will rise to the top eventually. Realness always shines through. I don't have to brag about my degrees or use big words to prove how intelligent I am. I know and I shouldn't have to prove it.

Beauty is happiness. A sunrise, a red, fragrant rose, a child's smile, the setting sun over the peak of a mountaintop, the stillness of a first snow, great works of art, a beautiful song, a sexy man---all make me happy.

Writing is my happiness. Happiness comes in the form of having the ability to bear my soul through the stroke of a pen or the keys on a keyboard. No one can take that away. When I write, my soul speaks loud and clear. . . no stuttering. Writing heals all my ills. . .

Quitness is the starting point for happiness. Just being still and listening to my spirit brings me a sense of well being. When I'm overstimulated, I react in a negative manner. I don't need a crowd of people in my life. I'll take a few genuine, wonderful friends over quantity any day.

One of my favorite movie quotes is: "I would rather have 30 minutes of wonderful than a lifetime of nothing special."

Being compassionate to others makes me happy. Being compassionate is the center of our true being. Life is so precious and short and I've experienced many deaths during my lifetime, so I speak from experience. People can be so nasty and evil to one another. Everybody vying for some imaginary spot on the top of the totem pole. In the end, it doesn't even matter.

Emotions, feeling something on a deep level, connecting with someone makes me happy because it proves I'm alive. Once you stop feeling, then you are already dead.

Quote from Steel Magnolias: I find it amusing. Men are suppose to be made out of steel or something. I just sat there. I just held Shelby's hand. There was no noise, no tremble, just peace. Oh god. I realize as a woman how lucky I am. I was there when that wonderful creature drifted into my life and I was there when she drifted out. It was the most precious moment of my life.

As I write this, I realize each and every day is a powerful journey in which I'm reaching for my happiness with open, outstretched, eager arms. . .

Y'all, I'm so vain!

2009-06-05T22:05:00.001-04:00

Y'all, I'm so vain! (Yes, I'm bringing out the southern drawl). I'm not proud of my vanity, but the truth will set me free.

Yesterday, I did something that I thought I'd never, ever be able to do. . . I've tried before. . . several times, but failed miserably. I never thought I'd be writing this because I can't believe it myself, that I've done this.

A moment of silence, please. . .

I gave up soda, Coca Cola to be exact. Cold turkey!!! That is major for me; a major lifestyle change.Y'all just don't know how major this is! All in the name of vanity.

Let me back up for a minute, take a breather, and give y'all a little history. That way you'll appreciate this moment more and share in my joy and accomplishment. Okay, I've always been petite, okay skinny. I guess I'm one of those rare individuals who can eat anything and not have to worry about exercising or gaining weight (I'll tell you some stories later of what I used to do to try to gain weight back in the day, drinking a milk shake a day, drinking supplements, etc).

Anyhow, the one and only vice I have ever had is the consumation of Cola Coca. I'm squeaky clean, the geek of geeks, when it comes to everything and anything else. I can honestly say that I've never smoked a cigarette, of any kind. I will even suffer from a headache because I hate taking pills of any kind.

My one vice is drinking sodas, at least three cans a day. And that's after cutting back from my six a day that I used to drink. I was purchasing cases of soda like most people purchase six packs or twelve packs of beer. My friends kidded that I should have Coca Cola stock.

This has gone on for years and years with me not having the willpower to stop. I know the caffeine and sugar isn't good for me, but hey, I just couldn't give them up. Just the image of an ice cold, Coca Cola (not Pepsi, there is a difference), hearing the pop and hiss of the tab being popped, sent me running for one over ice with my special straw.

I tried a few times over the years to stop drinking them and I'd go into instant withdrawal symptons: nervousness, shaky hands, irritability, headache and absolutely no energy. So, I eventually compromised by decreasing the amount of my consumption.

So, you ask, what happened? What made me quit cold turkey? Well, I will tell you. . . I stepped out of the shower one evening, checked myself out in the mirror and noticed a small pooch, that was my stomach (LOL). From what I have observed, small pooches can turn into larger ones. And that is just not happening, not now, not ever!

After my horror, I made a decision based out of total vanity that water is my new drink of choice. It doesn't matter that I absolutely hate the taste of, or lack of taste, of water. But, you know what? It doesn't matter, I will do what I have to do. When I weighed my choices: soda and pooch or water and no pooch, the decison was quite easy. A couple of hours later, I savored the taste of the last Coke I will EVER consume. It was a memorable moment. I think a tear or two rolled down my cheek.

It's now Day 2 and I see Coke's everywhere, ads on TV, sales in grocery stores, the Coke men at the vending machines, even in my dreams. . . Today, I had to do one of the hardest things ever. I order a Chik Fil A #1 and had to substitue WATER for my Coca Cola. I almost cried. You just don't know how badly I wanted that Coke.

However, I know I will survive because I'm a survivor. And I don't want a damn pooch!

P.S. I'll keep you posted. I have to get through the weekend!

It's My Birthday! It's My Birthday!

2009-06-05T22:04:00.001-04:00

It's my birthday! It's my birthday! Go, Electa! Go, Electa!

Seriously, I feel so blessed to be alive and healthy for another year. And to have the outpouring of birthday wishes that I've received today is an added bonus. It warms my heart to no end. Big hugs and smooches to everyone.

I believe in and I try to give people their "flowers" while they are alive. Life really is too short and sometimes we get caught up in just getting by, doing the day to day, rolling with the ups and downs, that we take the people in our lives, especially the ones that truly matter to us, for granted. We forget or neglect to extend common courtesies because we think they will always be around, always be there. I learned early on that is not always the case.

I try to live my life in a manner in which I'm kind to everyone and try not to take anyone for granted. When I was younger, I used to have this theory that I wouldn't live to see 30. Strange, I know. Yeah, I'm probably in need of some therapy. I came to this belief after witnessing my aunt die at 32, my dad at 34 and a sister at 1 year old. I thought perhaps we had some type of generational curse going on. I just know that when I hit 30, I felt so blessed because I was alive and well.

Life lesson: Be thankful for each and every day and don't take the people in your life for granted. Tell your significant others that you love them.

Why? Why? Why?

2009-06-05T22:03:00.001-04:00

My birthday is March 2nd! Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me!
In honor of my upcoming celebration of another year of life, I was mentally compiling a list of my Top 10 "whys". Not saying I'm complaining because I love my life, but damn, sometimes I just have to ask myself:

1. Why wasn't I blessed with a butt?
2. Why aren't I photogenic?
3. Why did God forget me in the breast department?
4. Why do people mistake my kindness for weakness?
5. Why did I get the skinny genes and not the brickhouse ones?
6.Why didn't I recognize my gifts/skills early on?
7. Why wasn't I in line when God was giving out passes for the rich and famous?
8. Why did my mom have to die?
9. Why do some people consider me standoffish, when I'm really just quiet?
10. Why did my dad have to die?

**Honorable mention: Why do people insist on calling me Electra instead of Electa?**

Electa Said What?

2009-06-05T22:00:00.002-04:00

Pisces are not typical people. They are too idealistic and impractical for every day run of the mill living. Pisces are sensitive and instinctual rather than bookish or mechanical. When Pisces find the right situations, they are capable of some incredible deeds. Pisces completely and wholly engage in a chosen path, to the exclusion of everything else. This obsessive compulsive energy can be healthy and not. Pisces can be workaholics (and other kind of -aholics too).

The above description is so me! And of course, I'm a Pisces. (Yes, I'm totally into astrology). Yesterday I spoke of how I'd gotten writer's block for the first time ever, and let me tell you, it ain't cute. I think I have too much on my mind and I need to focus. So today I decided I'd just go with the flow and see what comes out in the process.

Since most people, from the outside looking in, see me as a very private person in some ways, (translation: I don't tell all my bizness ), sharing only with my inner circle of friends and family, I decided I'd share today. Hopefully, after this creative writing exercise to get the juices flowing, my myspace friends won't think less of me. This is going to be a sorta free form blog. So, I may be all over the place. Here goes:

I really don't see myself as a typical person because I have a lot of quirky, border-line eccentric ways about myself. I believe in a lot of theories and ideas that most people don't. Sometimes I feel like a square peg in a circular world. I can be very quiet and into myself (living in my own world) and then later I can be loud, outspoken, opinionated and having the time of my life. I hate, with a passion, any injustices I witness in the world. I can't stand for anyone to use their "power" over someone of lesser authority just because they can. My soft spot is children; it tears me up to hear of any form of abuse (emotional, sexual, physical) to a child. If I'm ever on a jury and the case centers around a wrong to a child or children and I think you are guility, your ass is going to fry! Children are helpless and defenseless and you just don't harm them.

I thinks all the answers are in the quietness of listening to your spirit, but most people don't know how to simply be. . . and listen. My moods go up and down, but those who know me are used to that. Do you think I could be a maniac-depressive? Yah, I don't think so. I hope not. I have to have a certain structure and order to my surroundings. For instance, I can't work in clutter; it's too distracting. I'm a total romantic, which I'm sure you can tell from my playlist. I think I'm in love with the idea of love, however, I'm realistic about it all.I can become almost obssessive with situations if I'm truly feeling the project or person. That's just the way I am, I give my all if I'm into the task at hand.

Even though I'm definitely an adult and have lived life, I'm still naive about alot of things in life. I think that deep down most people are good inside. I believe in dreams and I believe that almost anything is possible if we truly believe that. Think back to when you were a child and you thought the world was yours. What changed that? I'm really a kind, compassionate person if you deserve it. Warning: Don't take my kindness for weakness though. Good girls don't finish last.

I could go on and on with my manifesto of what I believe and who I am. So lets just break it down. I'd love to get feedback from my myspace friends:

1. I think people are placed in our lives for a reason. Prime example: I've had people to enter my life exactly when I needed them, only to be gone after my crisis had passed.At the time, they were my angels on earth.

2. I believe that everything in our lives is predestined. We have the ability to make decisions, have freewill, that leads us down one path or another, but in the end, it all takes us back to our one original destiny that was created for us before we were even born. I believe our parents, the country we live in, our life experiences, our race, sex. . . all predetermined.

3. Past lives (reincarnation): Don't laugh, but I do believe in this. I know I've had deja' vu moments when I swore I had visited a place before or had met a person long before visiting it or meeting them. I had that experience my first time in Jamaica; I felt I had been there before and I felt like I was going home. I was so at peace there; I really didn't want to leave.

I've met people, well, actually only two, where I felt such a strong bond, almost emotional attraction when we met for the first time. I felt like I was being reunited with someone who had been missing in my life,someone who at that moment I realized I had been missing and didn't even know it until then and I felt this deep connection in my soul.That is powerful! I think the soul recognizes.

4. UFOs: Yes, I think there is life on other planets. The nerve of us to be so arrogant as to think we are the only intelligent life in the universe. The Truth is Out There (LOL). I used to love that show: The X Files.

5. Affirmations: There is power in words, even the Bible says so. Repeating positive words creates it in your mind, you start believing it and then you start acting on it. Then the magic really begins

6. Law of Attraction: What you put out there does come back. The universe is like a mirror. Think it, ask for it and it will come.

7. Religion: I believe Jesus Christ died for my sins and is my Lord and savior. And I believe there have been other prophets to walk the earth. I believe Dr. King was a prophet whose sole mission was to bring about the civil rights movement and I won't go into my feelings about our current president. I believe God is in each and every one of us and we have the power to make wonderful things happen during our lifetime.

8. One of my mottos: If we treated everyone as we'd like to be treated, the world would be a much better place in which to live. People have lost that sense of community and looking out for each other and treating everyone with respect.There was a time when you could learn a lot from older, wiser people.They had earned our respect because they had lived life and experienced its ups and downs. Today, some of them are just as foolish and self-absorbed as the younger generation.

9. Soulmates: I believe we all have a soulmate, that one person who completes us. I'm not saying the person makes us whole, as if we couldn't survive without him/her. I'm saying that the person makes us a better person; takes us to a higher level of being; brings out the very best in us and helps us to achieve great things.When the two souls come together as one, they are unstoppable.

10. Making a difference: I think we all have the ability to make a difference in the world, one person at a time. That's all it takes.We are all God-like.

11. Readings: I get two a year, at the first of the year and at the end. Most people think it is a bunch of bull, but if you go to a "real" pyschic, the information shared can be put to good use. People need to be more open-minded about life and things/people they don't understand. As I always say, I'll do almost anything once as long as it doesn't hurt anyone or myself or place me in jail (LOL). Life is an adventure. Live it because you only get one and there isn't a dress rehearsal.

Wow! I guess I'll stop now before I make this a book. . . (I've shared enough), speaking of books, I guess I'll eat dinner and go back to working on my manuscript. This creative, free flowing exercise really works. . .

Peace & Blessings,

Electa

It's Hard Being an Adult Orphan

2009-06-05T21:59:00.001-04:00

Even though I experienced great exhilaration on yesterday, witnessing the first African American president to be sworn into office, the dawn of a new day, I still find my mood swiftly going downhill.

It's almost January 29th.

I find myself each year, knowingly and sometimes unknowingly, moving into a mood slump. You see, January 29th is the anniversary of my mother's passing from breast cancer. She left this world ten days after my sister's birthday. My mom died with me holding her hand and whispering to her about all the love in the room.

You'd think it would get easier with each passing year, after all it has been 10+ years, but it doesn't, never does, probably never will. There will forever be an empty hole in my heart that aches to have my mom back. An emptiness exists that I'd give anything to fill.

It's hard being an adult orphan. It's even harder accepting the fact that there is no one in my lifetime who will love me with the unconditional love she possessed. I try not to become jealous when I hear other people talking about their moms and Mother's Day is the hardest. Sometimes I ask God, "Why did you have to take my Mom? Why my Mom?"

I always had visions of my children, Brandon and Briana, growing up with the warm, nurturing support and wisdom of a grandmother. I grew up with a family of women---aunts, female cousins, play aunts, etc. and I know their power, love and sacrifice.

I dreamt of them (my children) having a loving, wise presence in their life who spoiled them and lavished them with things they didn't really need---like grandmothers are suppose to do before sending them back home to their parents.

Nothing in life has prepared me for my loss, my ache, my emptiness, my loneliness. Some things just are. Don't get me wrong, in my small inner circle, I have people in my life who I love, love dearly. They bring me much joy, happiness, laughter and peace. Peace is always a little harder for me to acheive sometimes. I smile, but if you look closely, the smile never fully reaches my eyes, my soul.

Yes. Life goes on. It surely does because it certainly doesn't stop for my grief---especially after all these years. Family and friends feel I should have gotten over it by now. But those who have lost a mom, you know that you never really do. How do you "get over" not having a mom?

My confirming thought is that I must go on because that's what she'd want. My mom would want me to live a full, joyful life. She'd want me to reach for my dreams with both hands spread wide and feet firmly planted. She'd want me to experience the beauty of a rose, appreciate the loveliness of a sunset and sunrise, revel in the vastness of an ocean and know that my destiny is waiting because a higher power has made it so.

We are all placed here for a reason, a purpose. My mom fulfilled her predestination and moved on to a higher plane. Me. I'm still here for a reason, so I should strive to live the best life I can and ask God to provide the direction and guidance I need to become the best person I can become. I'm still a work in progress. I make mistakes, but I learn the lessons.

Yes, it's hard being an adult orphan, but I know my mom watches over me each and every day. My personal guardian angel. I can feel her spirit and it's telling me to be strong and live my life. . . because life without living, without joy, without passion, is simply existing.

Ramblings on a Wednesday Night

2009-06-05T21:57:00.002-04:00

For as long as I can remember, I've always loved the beginning of a new year. I think there is something magical about a fresh, new start. Maybe I am strange in that way, but a new year gives me unlimited, renewed hope. Hope for new beginnings, new starts, a time to wipe the slate clean and start over. And that's how I try to start each new year. No regrets, no looking back. I embrace the future...

2009 is chocked full of possibilities for me. Shortly this country will have a black president in the White House and I couldn’t be prouder. That alone gives me hope. . . hope for the future, hope for my children, hope for this country. I never thought I'd live to see this day, not in my lifetime. When President-elect Obama shouts, 'Yes, we can,' I believe him with everything in my being. I still possess the childlike quality of believing that if I wish for it, ask for it, and believe it will happen, then guess what, it will. There is so much power in positive thinking...

As 2008 came to an end, I realized that even though I may not be exactly where I want to be, I also realize as long as there is hope in my heart and passion in my soul, then I'll get there with hard work and by the grace of God...

Each new year brings 12 months (from the previous year) of additional wisdom to my lifetime of experience. I'm an old soul and I know life is full of disappointments, delays, frustrations and pain. . . that is all part of the lessons we must learn. I pray that I use my wisdom wisely. But life is also about great triumphs, life-changing events, realizations, and meeting people who bring joy, peace and excitement into your life right when you need it. There are no accidents in life; everything happens for a reason, including the people who are placed in it. I've finally come to an understanding that life is about serving others by using our God-given talents in a positive manner.

I'm constantly learning about the person I see when I look in the mirror. And I can truly say I like the person I am, the person I see. Yeah, I'm moody. One minute I can be smiling, happy and on top of the world and the next, I feel like I've lost my best friend. Yes, I'm a perfectionist. I know, I can be selfish. Sometimes, well a lot of times, it is all about me, me, me. Okay, I'm impatient. Whatever I want, I wanted it yesterday...

But on the other hand, I am loyal. I can be the best friend you ever have, if you prove to me that you are a true friend. I'm dependable, reliable and I have an honest, caring heart. I love hard because I have so much love to give. I'm emotional to a fault (I wear my feelings on my sleeve) and I'm a true romantic, believing in soul mates and past lives. I have a weird sense of humor. But take me or leave me, that's me. That's who I am...

One thing I've learned about myself lately is that I truly am a writer. A storyteller. Well, I really already knew that, it wasn't an earth shattering realization, but I tried to be hardheaded and not listen to what my spirit was saying. And your spirit doesn't lie. Just be quiet and still, and really listen. Regardless of setbacks, a changing literary industry, and just flat out hard times, I can't run too long or too far from the power and beauty of words. They embrace me and comfort me like no other. We are having a true, torrid love affair. I absolutely adore writing; I love being in the zone, I love creating, I love playing God by creating characters that are born of my imagination and mind. I crave the beauty of words. The absolute, sheer power of words. . . how they can change lives...

Writing is my outlet. My joy and sometimes my pain. T he one thing I can depend on. So, 2009, I promise myself, here and now, I will be true to my spirit...

The Best Mom I Know

2009-06-05T21:56:00.003-04:00

Experiences such as the death of her mother, two years after her own birth. Abandoned and given away by a young father. Adopted by a poor, Christian family. Became a single mom to two girls. Lost her only biological sister to an early death. Years passed, and lost a third child to an early grave.

For most of us, these are ingredients for the makings of a tragic life. Yet my mother, Dorothy Ann Taylor, chose to triumph over tragedy. She made the mental decision to win and not be defeated at the hand she was dealt. Her entire life was lived in a matter that chose to see the positives over the negatives, always with style and grace. I think my mom, Dot, as we affectionally called her, figured out that life is what we make it out to be and family is whoever you hold dear in your heart.

Regretfully, I lost my mother, my best friend, to breast cancer many years ago; yet, it feels like only yesterday. Years have passed, but the pain and yearning for my mother remains. My mom was my rock---the only person who has ever loved me with unconditional love, accepted me for who I am, flaws and all. Her unbending strength and strong fortitude were my shelter during silent storms and how I miss the many conversations in which my sadness and lows was quickly turned into genuine laughter. There were many happy times, too many to list. Laughter was always present in our home because my mom had a wonderful sense of humor and always kept us in stitches.

Growing up, looking back now, my mother did the very best she could with what we had. We may not have had a lot of material possessions, but we had a lot of love and that was enough. My sister and I grew up with a wonderful sense of who we are and our place in the world. My mom had a way of making me feel very special and she was so proud of my successes no matter how large or small. Even though I never told her, my mom was my hero. Even on her deathbed, she was a symbol of grace, strength and faith…still thinking of others and putting others first.

My mom's gifts to me: she taught me, by example, how to be independent, self-sufficient, strong and confident, how to always hold my head high in the midst of my failures, how to pray, how to reach for the stars, believe in myself and to follow my dreams. That's her legacy. One I hope to pass on to my daughter, Briana.

My mom was a dreamer, an achiever, a wise woman, a survivor…the best mom I know, my hero. Dorothy Ann Taylor. Forever and always in my heart and soul.

FIRST LOVES

2005-12-16T23:57:00.000-05:00

I remember HIM as if it was only yesterday. I can picture his face and smile as clearly as I recognize my own. I guess it's true what they say about your first love---you never forget them. That is definitely true in my case and we are talking about years after the fact. Yes, I still remember the day we met. It was love at first sight, at least on my part anyway; our eyes locked and I was hooked. It was one of those lazy, hazy, hot summer days in Georgia when you could fry an egg on the sidewalk. There was a knock at the door, I answered it and HE walked into my life and into my heart.

I still remember those sexy brown eyes, the slight curve of his luscious lips when he smiled and kissed me with such passion and fervor as if I would be the only lady in his life, forever. I still remember his deep, heartfelt laughter. Laughter that sang to my heart and soul. And oh, how I still remember the feel of his hands when they touched my bare skin. Shivers went up and down my spine as he awakened desires in me that I never knew existed. It was then I realized, "this is what it feels like to be a real woman." I remember the whispered "I love yous" in my ear; like careless whispers that caressed my heart. Spoken words that made my heart flutter like small butterflies in flight. I was overflowing with love---for HIM. Impressions like that never leave you. They stay with you always and leave a permanent imprint on your heart and soul.

Like all firsts, they have to come to an end sooner or later. To put it simply, it doesn't matter who was right, who was wrong, our relationship ended, but HE still lives on in my heart and memories. We shared more good than bad, but eventually the bad overrode the good. But you know what? If I had to do it all over again, I would---with no hesitation or regrets. Even if the ending was exactly the same.

I have never loved the same way that I loved back then. I loved him with everything I had, everything I could give; I loved him as much as I loved myself. I have never felt such passion, again, for someone as I felt back then. Passion that makes you weak at the knees. I know what they mean when they say, "you have stars in your eyes." That's what I had, he couldn't do any wrong. Then, I was young and naive; I hadn't been hurt yet. I believed there was a soul mate in life for each and every one of us---I had found mine. I was trusting and eager to hand my fragile heart over to HIM.

Looking back, it was all so magical and innocent. Sometimes, I long for those times again. We approached everything with a newness that was fresh and untainted. There wasn't any baggage, hurt or past to color our eyes or cloud our decisions. I found all that and more with my first love. Reflecting back over that time in my life, I realize I have never, again, been that giving and trusting with my love. Now, I have the baggage and the hurt and pain to remember. Pain that keeps me from exposing all of myself , pain that keeps me from totally trusting anyone or giving 100% of myself to a man.

Yeah, HE's out of my life and has been for many years. I haven't set eyes on him since he walked out my life as quickly and quietly as he entered it. Only he walked away with my heart. Yeah, he broke my heart wide open. There's a hurt there that has never completely healed. I have grown from that innocent, first time in love, naive young woman into a mature adult. I have had a few relationships; some good, some bad. Nevertheless, HE did leave a profound impact on me. HE changed how I deal with men, period. I find that I judge other men based on him as a reference point. I tend to be attracted to men who resemble him: clean cut, low cropped hairstyles, light brown eyes and all with sexy smiles. I'm attracted to men in uniform.

There are days, when out of the blue, I find my mind wondering and myself thinking "what if". A song can come on the radio, our song, and it all comes back as if it was only yesterday. In my mind, it was only yesterday. I can still remember what he whispered to me as we held each other. How he held me. How he loved me. Oh, so gently. I always play this drama out in my mind that we will run into each other one day by accident. Of course, I will be looking my best, hair perfectly cofied, makeup flawless. I'll have on my most flattering outfit and basically be "the bomb." I really don't know how the conversation will go, if it will be awkward or natural, but I want him to see me and see what he missed. And. . .I would like to have one question answered, a question that has tormented me for years, "what we had, was it real?"

It had to have been; at least it was for me. I mean, I still think about this man years later. He's still haunting my dreams. No, we never forget our first loves. I sure didn't.

Journal Entry from March 19,1999

2005-12-16T23:19:00.000-05:00

I've mentioned my past journal entries before. So, I thought you might find this entry amusing: In it, I'm writing a letter to myself right before the year 2000.

March 19, 1999

Dear Electa,

Hello Electa. I hope this letter finds you doing well, both mentally and physically, and if you are reading this, then it is almost the end of 1999. It's almost 2000; a new millennium, amazing. The year 2000 is symbolic of a new start; a new beginning. We get a fresh slate and can start over. Unfortunately, that's not realistic because we can never leave our past transgressions behind us and start over. Past experiences, both good and bad, make us who we are. That baggage forms who we are today. So, hopefully, we can learn from the past and move forward on a positive path.

Girl, I have gone through a lot of self-reflection and trying to find my niche and "calling" the last few years. It only takes one significant, major, tragic event in your life to make you realize how precious and short life really is. So, I am tired, so tired, of all the trivia things going on around me. I want to make a difference, no matter how small, in somebody's life so my living is not in vain. I don't have to reach millions of people. If I make a difference in just one person's life, then I have done my job.

By the end of 1999, I hope to have finished my manuscript and send it out to agents and publishers. I'll cross my fingers for positive feedback. Maybe this can be the voice or form of medium that can help someone out there. Maybe someone will read my novel and relate and realize, hey, I'm not alone. Someone else has gone through this and survived.

By the end of 1999, I would like to be at peace with myself. Sometimes I think there is a storm raging within me that only I can see and feel. I would like to see and accept myself for who and what I am; Electa Rome Parks. I have to accept myself with all my faults and all my attributes as well. I would love to get to the point where I don't care what people think of me. As long as I look in the mirror and like the person that I am, then no one else's opinion should matter. I would also like to reach the point where I have accepted my mother's death and the effects that has had on me. Now, that's another chapter all by itself.

By the end of 1999, I would like to have my house in order. I would like to get involved in my church more and expose my children to spirituality. I would like to continue to emphasize education, the importance of learning and striving towards a goal. My children are only 4 and 5, but it's never too early to instill these principals. I would like for my husband and myself to start giving back to each other. For so long our almost total focus has been our children. Now, it's time for us again.

By the end of 1999, I will continue to explore my creative writing skills and hopefully focus more and spend more time on that aspect of my life. I also intend to take better care of myself. 2000 will be the year for pampering myself. I intend to exercise, eat healthier, take my vitamins and meditate. Meditation is the key. Someitmes my mind will have a thousand and one cluttered thoughts going. The only way to clear my head and focus again is to meditate. I'm going to try to be stress free and focus on important things; not the trivia, bullshit, minute, unimportant, pointless people and things out there.

You know, I have come a long way. I have always believed in fate, karma, whatever you want to call it. I believe that a supernatural force is guiding our destinies and I feel that people are placed in our lives at certain points for a purpose. Take the Journal Writing Group II as an example, if I wasn't able to express my feelings openly and kept them bottled up, then I would probably be a basket case by now. Two years ago I didn't need this outlet, bt then again, two years ago my mother hadn't died at 52 years old of breast cancer. I know I harp on and on about this, but it has impacted my life greatly. I'm not the same person anymore. Sometimes, there is such great sadness and such emptiness that I can't even put it into words. It sneaks up on me unexpectedly and carries the same impact, a hard blow, each time. Things will never be the same again. But then, on the other hand, I feel my "guardian angels" watching over me and assuring me that I'll survive and this too shall pass.

If I keep this up, it's going to be the year 2000 and I'll still be writing this letter. So, I'll conclude by saying that in 1999 I'm focusing on a self-improvement project. I want to make a difference, be the best person I can be and realize that if I died today,my living wouldn't have been in vain.

Happy New Year!!! Happy New Year!!!

Love Always,

Electa Rome Parks

Musings On a Friday Night. . .

2005-12-16T21:58:00.000-05:00

It's a Friday night at 9:59 p.m. (I love to date my postings because it always amazes me how moments in time will never, ever happen again). That's why I love to collect old photos; a moment in time, be it happy or sad, is captured forever. I have my old journals and sometimes I will read through those and think. . ."wow, that is what I was thinking and feeling back then, if only I knew what I know now." Or other times, I wish I could go back to a particular moment in time and relive it. Wouldn't that be amazing?

But anyway. . . I'm back to blogging. It's been awhile, but I can't stay away too long. Life takes me off in a million different directions, but I always come back (LOL). Writing is my therapy; it clears out all the clutter from every day living. And I have lots of clutter.

What can we talk about tonight? My thoughts are all over the place, as usual. I recently purchased this book titled, Change Almost Anything In 21 Days; it's by an author named Ruth Fishel. The premise is that words are powerful!(I already knew that). Affirmations are powerful as well. (I knew that too). The book states that if a person writes a positive affirmation that is "possible", (10 times),in the present tense for 21 days straight, then on the 21st day, it should happen. We manifest it. Isn't that absolutely amazing?

So. . . I'm checking it out and I'll let you know if it works for me on the 21st day, which will be sometime in January 2006. For now, I won't tell you what I'm trying to change (LOL). However, I believe it's very possible. I believe in a lot of things that most people would laugh at me for even considering. Reincarnation, spirits, spirit guides, guardian angels, psychic ability, dreams, totums, astrology are all topics I could discuss at length with much passion. Just ask my friends (smile).

What else? (I know I'm rambling).It still amazes me how many readers think that writers are what they write. Amazing. That may be the case for some writers; I couldn't say. I've always heard that we should write what we know. For those of you who have read my novels, The Ties That Bind, Loose Ends, and Almost Doesn't Count, you know I write pretty racy relationship based dramas. I can't tell you how many times readers have come up to me at signings and say, "Oh, you're sooooo sweet." I don't know who they are expecting to meet. . . maybe a sexpot (LOL). . . but that trips me out. Writers creative these imaginary worlds inside our minds. That's what we do. I admit, a piece of myself is probably in every book I write, but it's just a itsy bitsy piece (LOL).

I recently finished the manuscript for my fourth novel, Ladies Night Out, which is scheduled for release sometime in 2006, probably the summer. After I finished, I felt so sad. I'm always like that...the completion of a manuscript means my day-to-day interaction and being connected to my main characters is over. I miss them. Then, I go through the stage of getting over the fear of releasing my words to the universe. However, I have such loyal readers that you guys always show me love.

More musings. It's almost Christmas! Can you believe it? Man, time flies. Christmas has always been my favorite holiday of the year because I have such good memories that go hand in hand with it. I recall such good times with family members who have passed on. Around Christmastime, the world takes on another feel that embraces me. Love, peace and good cheer is in the air and in abundance. Plus, I fell in love for the first time one Christmas years ago (smile). And ladies, you know we never forget our first loves; I'll tell you about him one day. On the flip side, I have bitter sweet memories of my mom, who is now deceased, shopping and laughing and spending time with me. Dot, as she was affectionally called, loved this time of the year so much.

Well, let me let you go. Thanks for spending a moment in time with me; a moment that will never come around again. I pray that 2006 will bring bigger and better ones. To the people on the literary side (you know who you are), who played positive, supportive and mentoring roles in my life, your time and energies were greatly appreciated! To my readers: I love you guys; you warm my heart.

Merry Xmas,

Electa

Question of the Week?

2005-10-20T13:00:00.000-04:00

Hey everybody! Okay, I know, I know, I've been bad. I haven't been a blogger for more than two months, and I'm already messing up by not posting on a regular basis. My excuse: so much to do, so little time to do it.

As promised, below is the question of the week. I know it's Thursday, but better late than never. Right?

In my third book, ALMOST DOESN'T COUNT, readers are introduced to Mercedes Jackson and her off the chain mother, Miss Betty. Mercedes has to travel home for the summer to care for her ailing mom. However, they've never gotten along for more than five minutes at most. So, fireworks explode! During the course of the summer, deep dark secrets and misdeeds are brought to light.

Question of the week?
If you and your mom mix like oil and water, should you work on the relationship or come to the realization that you will never be friends and leave it at that?

Can't wait to hear from you guys.

Electa

VENTING VENTING VENTING!!!

2005-10-06T22:08:00.001-04:00

It's 10:08 p.m. on a Thursday night, and I feel the need to VENT! Today has been one of those classic days; anything that can go wrong, has. It's Murphy's Law or maybe it's the medication I'm taking that has me riled up (LOL). For those of you who know me, you know that I'm a very positive person. Almost to a sickening point, right(LOL)? I try to live by the Golden Rule and love my neighbor as myself, and all that good stuff in between(LOL). Negativity has no place in my world! Life is too short, and I'm not going to let a bunch of ignorant, small-minded people upset my journey.

However, tonight I feel the need to vent and spew forth my frustrations! Big-time! I wish I could do what I love to do and that is. . . to simply write. None of this BS would be mixed into the equation. In my perfect world, I'd write a book a year, maybe two, but not more. Readers would pre-order and flock to the bookstores on the day my books dropped, and I'd receive fan mail, glowing reviews, make all the bestseller lists and all would be well in my world without my ever leaving the comforts of my home. (sighing and leaning back in my chair). Yeah, that would be my perfect literary world.

Fast forward to reality: (translation. . . the real world). I'm so sick of the politics of publishing, I'm sick of being sick of being pulled in a million different directions, wearing all types of 'hats' that don't flatter me, dealing with arrogant authors who think they are special just because they wrote a book, constantly competing, hustling, keeping the buzz alive, dealing with reviews that are laced with personal agendas and then. . . waking up the next morning and doing it all over again. Welcome to my world.

Tonight, for instance, I just happened to surf onto this aspiring writer's blog and she ripped Loose Ends, my second book, up and down. Said she could write circles around me and questioned if I was the state of the publishing industry. Hmmm, y'all know I'm sensitive and that just blew me out of the water. I had a few choice words, but hey. . . everybody has an opinion and I can respect that.

However, there are a few things I've learned that places everything in perspective for me. First of all, one thing I know if I don't know anything else is that everybody is not going to like what you write. You can't please all the people all the time; that's a given. Personally, I write for entertainment purposes; I write relationship based stories, that cover a topical issue, with spicy storylines. Plain and simple. If that's not your cup of tea, so be it. I've never said I was Toni Morrison or the second coming of a literary great. They are no illusions with me. I know what I can and cannot do; I'm not trying to change the world with my stories. . . and that's my perogative (as Bobby Brown would say). If I've touched one person by making them laugh, cry, think, then that's cool with me. If you aren't feeling me, cool. Find someone you are.

Secondly, why all the putdowns and comparisons? Why can't the African American literary community be supportive of one another? (I say the AA community because that's all I've been exposed to). If you think you can write circles around me. . . do it! Write your book, hustle, and get picked up by a major publishing house! There is plenty of room for everybody. There is plenty to go around. See, I will congratulate, not hate.

Second example: I forwarded an e-mail to a young lady about my newest release, Almost Doesn't Count. I had noticed on Barnes and Noble or somewhere that she loved Eric Jerome Dickey's latest novel and thought mine would appeal to her as well. Okay, I guess I spammed her. Don't shoot me! But. . . you would have thought I shot her. She responded with a nasty e-mail back that advised me to stop sending her my shit, bytch! Excuse me? Who is she calling a bytch? Is this the way African American women react and support one another? I hope not. In her post to EJD, she wished him the best and may God bless you, etc. Then she turns around and spits her venom on me. . . simply because I sent her an e-mail. Sad.

Thirdly: Why can't authors get along? Why all the cliches and backstabbing and jealousies, etc.? Don't get me wrong, 99% of the authors I have met are wonderful, talented human beings, it's just that 1% that leaves a bad taste in my mouth.

People, please stop the madness. Like I said, all I want to do is write. That's all I have ever wanted to do.

Thanks for listening. . . (or reading).

Question of the Week - What would you do?

2005-10-02T15:46:00.000-04:00

Hi everyone!

Well, it is official, looks like I'm a blogger. For those of you who are familiar with my works, The Ties That Bind, Loose Ends, and my newest release, Almost Doesn't Count, you guys know I love stirring up controversy.

So. . . starting today. . .what I'd like to do is pose a question of the week and interact with my readers to get your opinions. Sounds good? Well, lets get started.

For those of you who have read my first book, my baby, The Ties That Bind, and for those of you who are going to run out and pick it up right now (smile), you know that one of the main characters, Mia, finds herself caught up in a domestic abuse situation, and turns to her husband's (Brice) best friend (Christian) for support.

Question of the week: What would you do if you knew that your best friend was abusing his/her mate?

I can't wait to hear from you guys!! Lets get live!

Hugs & smooches,

Electa

Meet Author Electa Rome Parks

2005-09-26T13:41:00.000-04:00

Electa Rome Parks, one of the rising stars in contemporary fiction, is the author of the best-selling novels THE TIES THAT BIND and LOOSE ENDS, which were originally self-published through her own company, Novel Ideal Publishing and Editorial Services Company, a company now dedicated to quality editorial services.

Mrs. Parks has been writing ever since she remembers. After years of keeping a diary, journaling, writing short stories and poems, her first novel was born in 2001. "I developed a love, respect, and appreciation for books at a very early age," states Parks. "I realized words were powerful, they could change lives, ideas, beliefs, your view of the world and yourself. Writing is my therapy. It clears out all of the clutter of everyday living."

After successfully self-publishing her debut novels, New American Library, a division of Penguin Group, bought the rights. Mrs. Parks signed a three-book deal with New American Library. Her first novel, THE TIES THAT BIND, was re-released in October 2004, and LOOSE ENDS was re-released in November 2004. Both books were immediately chosen as Black Expressions Book Club selections and embraced as Books of the Month by book clubs across the country. A third manuscript, ALMOST DOESN'T COUNT, which was immediately chosen as a Main Selection for Black Expressions Book Club, is slated for publication in August 2005. Parks states, "This is just the beginning of my literary journey that confirms dreams do come true and nothing or no one can stop the predestination that is laid out for each of us." Recently, Electa signed her second book deal with New American Library/Penguin Group. Her upcoming project is: LADIES NIGHT OUT (NAL, 2006).

Electa Rome Parks currently lives outside Atlanta, Georgia, with her husband Nelson and two children. With a BA degree in marketing and a minor in sociology, she is presently following her true passion and working on another novel.To find out when and where Electa will be in your area, check out her website at

www.electaromeparks.com . To share your thoughts with Electa regarding her work or to schedule an event, please e-mail her at: novelideal@aol.com.