Promotional Suicide

The holiday season is upon us, which is a beautiful thing. The Christmas/New Year collaboration is supposed to be, in my opinion, the celebration of the birth of Christ, the joy in our world, and the blessing of being on this earth another year. Many of us celebrate by giving gifts to show our appreciation of one another, having family and friends over for festive gatherings, and possibly getting drunk to forget about all the money you spent and the ill-meant well-wishes you sprayed because 'tis the season.'

Is Wanda D. Hudson a scrooge? No. I absolutely love the holidays. What I don't love is the fact that some people use the holidays as a personal promotional tool. Yes, I do believe in promotion - hell, I have a novel that will be released in January of 2006, so I'm a promoting fool right now. Sure, push your book as a Christmas gift. If someone if going to spend their money to show their appreciation for their fellow man, why not spend it on your work. My problem comes with people who burst down your door to get the job done.

I am a member of a few online writing groups. Every year some of these groups do gift or Christmas card exchanges. Beautiful. I signed up in a couple of the groups. Everyone gave out their home address or PO box numbers and the cards began flying. Well, I received my first card in the mail last week. I was so happy! I mean, to think someone who doesn't even know me included me in their holiday spirit! Thank you, thank you, thank you.

Well, I got so mad when I opened the card and the author's promotional bookmarks fell out! Those bookmarks took my holiday happiness and stomped on it. In an instant I became another stranger at a fair who that particular writer wanted to reach. I know how the author felt, I am the same individual trying to reach that potential buyer.

I just feel that the majority of us in these groups know what each other does. I know you're trying to blow up, shoot, so am I. But the purpose of the card exchange, in my opinion, is to spread holiday cheer. Would it really harm any of us to simply put those promotional items to the side? I feel like my home was invaded. I gave my address to a stranger and then they just came in and did as they please. Yeah, I'm probably turning a mini cupcake into a German Chocolate Cake, but this is my vent space. I had to get this off of my chest.

Maybe I am judging someone's actions and for that I apologize. I haven't thrown the cards away, but I have no intention on purchasing the writer's works. Will keeping my money in my purse hurt the author? Probably not. Promoting until you are on the best sellers list is a dream that many of us have, and that many of us will accomplish. Promoting by entering the back door, when you're welcome thru the front, is promotional suicide.

Dreaming In Perfecta-Vision

Hey all,

Please visit http://myinvisiblehusband.blogspot.com/2005/12/dreaming-in-perfecta-vision.html . I am the guest blogger on Miss Sheila Goss', the author of My Invisible Husband, website.

Find out what kind of dreams really do come true.

Daddy's Babygirl

Babygirl – a name my father began calling me the day I entered this world. I swear I can hear his voice right now, and I see the scene of a pretty brown newborn being cleaned up on a table in a delivery room, and him standing by proudly saying Babygirl over and over again.

Strangely enough I used the title of this post as one of the chapter titles in my soon to be released novel. Life imitating art, to say the least, is an unsettling feeling. Three weeks ago I had to face the callous reality that one day until the rest of my life, I will never hear my father call me his Babygirl. Some realities you can never grasp or want to own. My father had his second recorded heart attack, and this time his kidneys began to fail. I’ve never had to deal with death so closely. I’ve had friends and cousins lose their parents and cried with them, but never fully understand how they felt until now.

I never thought about my daddy dying. I figured I’d be in my late sixties or seventies when he passed away. I’m not ready for this. I’ll never be ready for this. My parents are divorced and somehow I think that if they had stayed together and we were a “proper” family unit, he never would have gotten sick. I shake my head at my childish beliefs and am forced to grow up in an instant.

Thinking of my father being sick ills my heart. I don’t want him to suffer. He is under Hospice care and hearing him speak of dying shatters me every time. Then I think of how man made Jesus endure a painful death, and of all the sick people in the world, the catastrophes, and tragedies. Although I believe in God, in times of weakness none of this knowledge changes my heart; I don’t want my daddy to suffer. Hey, I’m human…I’m not perfect.

At the present I reside in the Bronx and he lives in Florida. This doesn’t help. I have to move, I have to help him in order to help me. The daunting scenes of my father lying in a coffin, and of me crying, is not a black art picture that I want to go on sale. This hurts. Nothing about black art should hurt…black art is beautiful.

I flew to Florida a week after his attack and stayed with him for five stingy days. Five days is no way long enough to spend with a man that made sure you had a hot meal, clothing, and a place to sleep every night. Oh, don't let me forget the sight of him putting together my first metal dollhouse. A whole lot of metal clanking and cursing, but hours later, I was playing without the thought of ever growing older. I only stayed five days because I had to be an adult, and return to my place of work so I could do the same for my child as he did for his. For once, I wish I had no job.

Losing a parent is devastating in more ways than I can imagine. The one thing I’m afraid of is, when my daddy passes on, it will be official. I will be an adult. I will be the one next in line to become a grandparent, and the one who everyone looks to for guidance. I have no choice but to take the reins and handle them like he did. But I was always the babygirl. To this day, at age thirty-nine, I’m still the babygirl. At least that’s how my daddy makes me feel. If he leaves me, will I still be the babygirl? Funny, I have two daughters and I still want to be the baby when it comes to my father. Before I left Florida to go to the airport he kissed me and said, “Stay sweet, baby. I love you.” It’s my birthright to be the baby.

Each day I’m living with the knowledge that death is going to come and choke me. The one thing that soothes me is I now know that no matter where my daddy is, I will always be Daddy's Babygirl.

Brand New

It has been a few months since I've done the Blog thing. As a writer I miss posting my inner thoughts for all to see. I also miss it as an everyday plain ole gotta make that money girl. As we all know making money, it doesn't matter how much the amount, eluded me for a minute, which seemed like an eternity when I was BROKE. I don't consider myself BROKE anymore, just broke. My life is still excellent.

The latest news I have is that I'm waiting on the proof copy and PDF file for my novel, Wait For Love: A Black Girl's Story. The excitement over my first novel is unexplainable. I feel like I'm breathing and suffocating myself at the same time. Sounds weird huh?

My days are no longer than anyone elses but it feels like the hours that make up my time are playing tricks on me. They, meaning the hours, stare at me as I watch the clock tick. Sometimes the minute hand goes in reverse, and even skips a few numbers just to go back and double up on the time it spends with any particular number. I won't even begin to elaborate on the hour hand...just RIDICULOUS! Stopping in mid-cycle as if it's stuck in rush hour. Some days I feel like screaming where is my book! I'll take the you dumb fool looks with ease. If the world knew the beauty that was coming for me, it would scream, too.

A prominent saying or belief is that patience is a virtue. I know one of the words in my novels title is wait but geez...Oh shoot, with the clock and watches and even hourglasses teamed up against me I guess I can't complain. So much has happened to me in such a short period of time. I'm still the same old sexy Wanda, but waiting on my novel and the trials that have passed makes me feel so brand new.

Overall if being brand new feels this good, I'll continue to wait. Now where is that mailman????

Virtue=Sexy=Wanda=Brand New=Wait

Okay, I get it. I should, I wrote it. :-)

Shift

First, I was fired. Two weeks later, I was hired. The job didn't pan out due to a laspe of insurance in 2002, which I had no knowledge of until 2005, that was on my driving record. I would have to operate a company car in their lot on occasion, and my NYS driving skills couldn't overcome a three year old piece of paper that was shuffled in a mix-up. Of course I ALWAYS rebound and one week after that, I was hired again. I began the job and low and behold, two days later, another employer thought I was the stuff top rate employees are made of and hired me again! So tomorrow morning I shall report for duty with a great attitude in hopes of prosperity and as of late, the very evasive paycheck.

This last month has been a collage of mood changing experiences for me. I feel like I have been driving with a broken brake fluid line and my clutch is corroded. I was forced to shift to keep up and surpass a set speed limit. Some days I drove into barriers. The dents sent me into deep thought and revelations but I gassed up and kept on rolling.

I've been on so many shifts this last month. The first shift was the 8am to 8am haul. I stayed home on those days. Contemplating exactly what I was supposed to do with the confusion filled speed bumps that popped up just when the road seemed paved slapped me into a dazed stupor. 8-4, 4-12, 12-8...you better shift if you want to stay afloat.

A median of a normal steady stream of air is what I desire. I desperately want to go each day without holding my breath, sitting and staring at the telephone, or checking my lottery tickets over and over, knowing the numbers don't add up to the jackpot. My eyes have never lost sight of my writing or releasing my first novel. I never understand when someone said they could taste success. Having to shift to stay afloat slammed the taste of success into my soul. I can smell it, feel it, and even have my clothing chosen for my first television debut.

This shift in my life was unexpected. The fact that I didn't total out or file a claim is excellent. I still have the unsettled jitters of being 'at will', which I plan to dispose of in my future. But in the meantime, I'll handle this shift will the exquisite style that I am accustomed to producing.

Wait For Love: A Black Girl's Story

The Reason Is...

A new month already. Wow. If you're not having fun does time still fly by? On some days yes. And boy have I measured every minute of my day. I've recovered from my job dilemma but still have not managed to obtain another. Well, I was "hired" by a company but I haven't physically put in 8 hours yet. What's the hold up? If I knew I'd tell you. You know the employed never rush for the unemployed. One day I promise to not allow someone to wonder if they're going to eat on the street or just be on the street.

I've had ample time to write and even received a few opportunities. Everyone says if I'd never gotten fired those chances would have never been available. True. Writing is what I was born to do so every chance I get I'll take it. I've also enjoyed staying home with my Poopah. Looking at her makes me strive to do better. Her eyes have shown me I'm the best thing going so any employer that gets me will have some top notch stuff on their hands!

Each day that passes puts me closer to the day when my novel, Wait For Love: A Black Girl's Story, will be available. I had to take a minor u-turn but I'm a writer. We always persevere. Setbacks make you see how good you have it. There is someone out there who is in a much more dire situatuion than you are, but of couse you don't believe it because you and that person will never meet. I'm fine with that understanding. The one thing that will make my life perfect is simply figuring out what the reason is for the confusion that surrounds me. But then again, who do you know with a perfect life?

At Will

If you're wondering why I chose this particular title for this post I'll tell you. During my peaceful sleep this title came to me. Usually, when something like that happens it's embedded into my memory. If I live until I'm ninety-five and unfortunately devolope Alzheimer's disease, I'll always remember the incident that caused me to write this.

For those of you that have been following my blog, I thank you. You know that recently I was fired from a job for a reason that most of us feel was simple. I've moved on past that incident but I feel I have to tell you what has given me an extra boost to do so.

First things first. I have applied for seven jobs in which I am qualified for. Actually, I wasn't qualified for one but I applied anyway. I had a dollar for the thirty-seven cent stamp to mail off my resume and a dream. I didn't get the job but I used the change to help do my laundry. Ahh, progress. I have an interview Monday, April 18th with another prospect so wish me luck!

Now, back to the title of this post. Just to see if the little people have rights I contacted the Labor Board about my situation. After answering various questions via telephone I was informed that my situation is within the law. I was deemed as what is an employee 'at will.' I knew a guy in High School named Will who got on my nerves. Maybe I should have been nicer to him.

I listened intently as the person broke it down to me. Basically, move on, lady. There's nothing you can do about it. Oh yeah, I could try to sue for mental duress but the voice told me he doubted that will go anywhere. Gee, thanks.

That prompted my need to exactly define the meaning of 'at will.' I had a basic understanding of it but as a writer I needed more. The Merriam-Webster Dictionary has the word at meaning - a point in time, a goal, a position or condition, or means cause or manner. The word will is in my version three times so I'll just give the first listing of each.

1. wish , desire
2.wish or desire often combined with determination
3.to dispose of by or as if by a will, bequeath

With this information I took the definition of 'at will' in my circumstance to mean your condition or manner is disposed of - Your Fired. Oh well.

Today is a beautiful day. I know that and know why I'm here. Tomorrow is a day that I hope to see. Will my job put me 'at will' of another employer? Probably. The one thing that gives my steps bounce is the fact that I have new knowledge going in. Lessons come when they want. They force you to learn them. I have. Think, Wanda. Think before you go into action. My lesson. My question...are you 'at will' of your employeer?

Come'on career. At will of self. A writers' dream fulfilled.

My Bookmark Cost Me My Job

In my previous post I said my next novel would be the title that I chose for this particular post. Creating an entire novel on this wouldn't be fiction, which is more my forte, so I'll place my non-fiction pieces here.

Yes, it came to pass. I wouldn't say the ax fell, being that I'm still intact physically and mentally, nor will I say the other shoe has dropped. I love shoes and allowing them to hit the floor without a soft place to land isn't up my alley. I, Wanda D. Hudson, one the most competent, hardworking and knowledgeable individuals you may ever meet, was fired from my job on Monday, April 11th, 2005. What a way to start the week off.

This is how the event unfolded, or shall I say, exploded. Well, I really don't know what took place. I wasn't priviledged to attend any kind of conference or meeting or even speak on my behalf. My previous post ended with the decision to terminate me being postponed. This should have happened on Friday, April 8th, 2005. As a result of this I had to work my regular scheduled shift, the twelve midnight to the eight a.m. shift, Saturday and Sunday night. First question. If what I did was such an offense and a violation of policy, why was I allowed back on the organizations property AND paid to be there? Why didn't the powers that define what is righteous suspend me, without pay, until the matter was resolved? What level of stress do you believe I suffered? Oh, the mental anguish this has caused me! Mental anguish is a condition you hear in what type of setting? I may need a few of you to refresh my memory.

Well, I left work that Monday morning with a seriously diminished hope of returning that night. I mean, I didn't even get to say an apology. With that information my job search began the day I was told I may be fired. Everything else about my world continued with normalcy. Using the health insurance I had just became priviledge to I took my daughter to a doctors appointment, and would find out my verdict when I returned home.

My answering machine revealed it all. Actually, the message was only half there and I had to call my immediate supervisor to hear the words I waited stressfully to hear. Basically, there was nothing that could be done on my behalf. The decision came early and was made before Monday morning even arrived. Turn your uniforms in at this particular location, I wish you the best and yow-sah, yow-sah, yow-sah....

I think I got fired for promoting pornography. No, I believe it was the image and words on my bookmark. Wait a minute, could it be I was let go because of one persons perception of what pornography is? If you're unmarried and having sex is that correct? If you have children out of wedlock is that holy? If you're married and choose a few positions that are, well, uh...anyway, is that disgusting? The itty bitty school girls skirts that are worn as part of a uniform, what exactly is that promoting? Not the study of any English language found in Webster's. Remember these are MY thoughts. Please don't criticize or downgrade them. You can, however, feel free to voice yours.

I'm really not complaing. I'm doing what the blog demands from us. Write it down, get it out and maybe someone will read it. I know that I wasn't supposed to be employed there. So many people say when a door closes...The sad thing is that I'm not the only person that has ever gone through this. How many people have been viewed strangely because they choose to do what is their passion? It doesn't matter if it's erotic writing, science fiction, children's books, photography or a masseuse. The plain fact is someone will ALWAYS have a different opinion from yours. That I can deal with. If your opinion offends the masses do you have to change your stance or will an apology suffice? Should you get a second chance on probation, or, does probation mean tip-toe, kiss butt and breathe?

I've moved on. The passing out of my bookmark cost me my job but it will never, ever interfere with my career.

Job Or Career? You Make The Call

Hmm, I guess the only way to begin is to begin. The end of this past week has been a bit stressful for me. Writer's write. That's how we breathe. In order to make your chest continue its rhythmic heave, we promote. That's all I thought I was doing. Promoting. Nothing to offend, nothing to sicken, nothing to cause any dispair. My first work, which happens to be in ebook form, is a short erotic collection of stories about women. The title It's a Woman's World says it all.

My next work may be titled, My Bookmark Cost Me My Job. Does it sound idiotic? Maybe, but it could be true. I, like any writer, had certain promotional items made to annouce our work and keep our names on the lips of readers. My items are bookmarks that consist of the book cover, which is a silhouetted woman holding a globe, and the saying, Seduce your mind with a literary tryst by escaping to It's a Woman's World. Your sexual fantasies will never be the same. It also has the web address, my name and my email account.

Temporary insanity? Laspe of judgement? Mistake? These words may constitute why I handed out bookmarks promoting sexual, erotic, but in my opinion, no way pornographic stories. As I handed the promo items out with a smile I stated, "Now, don't go to this site at work. Visit it at home." In all honesty I'm sure I mouthed some other stuff but without hypnosis I probably won't remember.

A few hours later I received a call from my immediate supervisor informing me that he had just come from a meeting where serious events transpired pertaining to me. "What?" Basically he told me of the bookmark caper and that termination loomed over my head. "What?" One of the women I gave a bookmark to went to the site and proclaimed that I was promoting pornography at work. My job deals with sensitive issues, an issue I personally dealt with a year ago, and I may pass these things out to the clients. "Huh?"

It's a Woman's World. This isn't the way the women treat each other in the stories. Ripping off and burning your bra happened when? Everything goes these days. I think I sexually harrased a few women with the bookmark. For that I apologize.

I'm going to keep this short. Are my bookmarks offensive? Do they portray full frontal nudity? Yes, there are a few words of sexual nature, and I may add they are in the dictionary, but would that warrant me getting seriously garbage canned? I can go on and on as to why I'm right, that I did no wrong, but my voice won't be heard. The plain fact is I offended someone. I'll be a dark damper on the entire organization. Oh, I forgot to tell you that I've only been there a month and am still on probation. We all know you'd better not do a diggity dog thing wrong on probation! And I scraped the bottom of the barrel promoting porn.

I need a job. A job pays the bills. A job keeps my internet service active so I can talk to you. A job offers health insurance, which with a small child, I desperately need. I guess I'm not so upset because I know that my job will never define my career. One day my career will do all the things of a job and more. With this knowledge I'm willing to let this job go and find another for the sake of my career. I'll never stop writing. I will, however, think three times before I promote my work to someone with a totally different view.