Wednesday, November 29, 2006

Race Is Um...

In 2006 it would seem like despicable behaviour from previous decades would not exist. In the 1960's and before, Civil Rights Activists gave their lives for strangers in their present, and strangers of their future, to succeed and live the way we think the world was created for. For the way human beings live and die, it would seem that the world was created to teach everyone various lessons.

This world has many cultures, nationalities and is very versatile. With all that we have to offer, differences included, why is the indicating factor of race a barrier for us all?

If you concentrate on the many different races, you will see that each and every one is a life knot.

Just like the air we breath...Race Is Um is a necessity to survive.

Race Is Um... has become as prominent as one of our sense. We hear it, we feel it, we smell it...the taste is sweet to some - repulsive to others.

Race Is Um... like gasoline. We need it to keep going - without it, we can stall and remain at a standstill.

Race Is more powerful than a drug. Some people inhale it like a daily does of marajuana, which they believe isn't harmful. Others inject it into their veins and ride the high it takes their emotions on.

Race Is Um...has an address. It has taken over many rehab facilities worldworldwide, so there is no cure for it.

Race Is the main ingredient in any argument of Black-Hatian-African-Trinidadian-Chinese - Mexican - HELL - act of crime against a person not of caucasian decent.

Race Is on many resturant menus. It can be ordered as the main course, as a side item, or taken with a few lumps of sugar to taste.

Like a childs game we have taken the word and made it a joke. Say it fast three times...
Race Is Um, RacisUm...Racism...damn, it looks and sounds ugly.

Pass a law to abolish Racism - Sure, and then everyone will love everybody and live happily ever after.

Pass a law to abolish the use of the "N" word - Okay, then no one on the face of this earth will ever say it again.

Pass a law to stop crimes against children, and a law for crime period, and a law that says you will go to jail for blah, blah, blah....And the beat goes on.

If you are a believer, then you know the hot thing on the streets isn't hip hop, the new winter clothing line, or a televison show that is at the top in the Neilson ratings. lucifer is in now. he is on the streets making sales and getting paid. his bling bling is bright, but unfortunately we can't see it.

Death all around -police brutality - missing persons. Some say its in His plan, and this world was charted out like we plan a vacation. Our thoughts are not ours, but on loan for our time here. Maybe so. Today as I write this I don't know and have no idea of what human I can ask. I'm positive that they don't know either. My questions will cause a debate and I'm not in the mood for all that heal the world shit talk right about now.

Whether you choose to say it fast or slow, Race Is coming soon or already in your neighborhood. Are you going to join the welcoming committee?

Saturday, October 28, 2006

Book Signing Extravaganza!

Hey All You Sexy Folks!

Yours truly (that's, no one named me, me...okay, okay...geesh) Wanda D. Hudson is having a Book Signing Extravaganza for my novel, Wait for Love: A Black Girl's Story!

Sister's Uptown Bookstore
1942 Amsterdam Avenue
New York NY 10032

Saturday, December 2nd
4:00 pm until 6:00 pm.

Book Signing Extravaganza for Wait for Love: A Black Girl's Story

There will be food, drink, (okay, you have to PURCHASE that from the cafe, but it will be there) naked men, (uh, can't a girl dream) a great book to buy with my autograph. (fool, is your signature worth anything??? LOL NOPE, but it's sexy)

Please visit the Sister's Uptown Bookstore website for further information.

So come on out! Bring your friends, family, co-workers and even yo momma. I won't talk about her.

This is a Miss WandaLuv sell some books, talk some stuff, production.

Wanda D. Hudson
Wait for Love: A Black Girl's Story
"Remember, Everybody Needs A Little Luv"

Saturday, October 14, 2006

Who Is It?

Some people proclaim to know God or to know of a God. Some people say God talks to them, that He guides them. I believe that to be true. I honestly believe that He guides me and has tapped me on my shoulder many times in these last few years. Another thing that I believe is that God will never trick or fool you. He is always honest in what He presents to you - be it excellent or something less than you think you deserve.

Whether you believe in Him or not, you've all heard of his nemesis. The devil. He is the one who will fool you. The devil will play tricks with your heart and mind, and force you to believe that all that is happening to you is what is best for you. The one flaw that haunts him is that his presentation is never everlasting. See, the devil runs with anger. Anger cannot be concealed always. When anger reveals itself, the devil's game is over.

Most presents come in beautiful wrapping paper. Maybe the wrapper is in the form of a sexy woman, or a fine man. A new car that someone wants you to have-with no strings attached. Maybe you won a contest, or money, or a trip. I believe the devil tempts us with these things to see how desperate we will behave. This I know is true for I have been tempted and have acted like an idiot.

I wonder how or if ever will we know how to tell the difference. God doesn't bring pain, hurt or despair. So why do we die, why do we suffer, why oh why is the world the way it is? I don't know. This post is just my feelings that I like to share. I don't have the answers to much of anything in regards to those questions. I think you have to get on your knees to find a response.

Life keeps on moving for some. For others, it is at a standstill. Some of us are stuck trying to figure out the difference between God and the devil, not knowing that the two shouldn't be confused at any time. Some of us don't even know that we are trying to figure this out. That's sad.

Realizing lessons is a blessing. Keeping the blessing with you is an honor. One thing we all should practice is asking and then finding out Who Is It, before we let them into our world.

Thursday, October 12, 2006

My Website Is Up!

Please visit to find out what's new in my world! Enjoy the tunes, read the reviews and excerpt, and don't forget to leave a comment before you go!


Wanda D. Hudson
Wait for Love: A Black Girl's Story

Saturday, September 23, 2006

Return To Sender

Hmmm...This post is troubling to me. It's freeing, also. That's the troubling aspect of it. I guess I should just type and see what concoction my mixed emotions will present.

Recently I interviewed for a job with the Post Office. The entire process consisted of taking the postal exam last year, passing it, and then having your name placed on a list to be called when positions became open. I received a notice on August 12th informing me that my name had been reached and that I was to have an interview August 16th.

Actually, I had forgotten about the Post Office...I mean, nobody ever retires from there until they have to. Good money, excellent benefits, and a pension plan. WOOHOO! This is a job that I just had to have.

The Application - Twice on the application it asked if you have ever been terminated from a job. If you have followed my blog, you may recall that I was fired from a job in April of 2005 for passing out a bookmark for my ebook. I no longer have the ebook, and am not affiliated with the site. Well, I couldn't lie - it's the government. If Watergate unfolded, what exactly would make me think my past trangression would remain hidden?

I told the truth, the entire truth, and then told some more. Everything else about my application was fine. My personality, my work ethics, my past work experience and my eagerness was beyond the call of duty. A duty that had something to do with opening up storage bins and taking mail out. Nothing spectacular, but something that would keep the US Postal Service moving flawlessly.

I found out yesterday that I wasn't the best candidate for the job. Hmmm...I guess I have to believe that. I mean, they don't know who I really am - or do they? I truly believe that me being me, my following my dream - my passion, is why I didn't get the job.

So many questions were asked about the infamous bookmark. What did it say? Your former boss wrote on his report that it said something. Write an essay stating what it said and what exactly happened. I did that twice. I explained it three times - to the same person. I told that I had my baby, Wait for Love: A Black Girl's Story in circulation, too. I received an excellent recommendation from my former surpervisor, you know, the one I worked under when I was fired. He wasn't the one who fired me, he actually requested that I be written up, and given another chance. We actually conferred about what I said and what he would say, so we would be on the same page, and hopefully I would be hired.

Not qualified? Or too qualified to cause "problems"? Hmmm...once again I have to say my bookmark cost me a job. At least that's what I believe.

I'm sure there are many people out there who can do many things better than I. They have paper that says so. That I don't doubt. But in this case, hmmm...doubt is all I have.

I'm not going to list the conversations that took place during this process, but they are guiding me to feel that it came down to my previous shortcoming. So many questions about a bookmark. No questions about my present job, my supervisors, my military questions that would help me get an -in-it-for-the-long-haul-retirement-job.

If you do a search of Wanda D. Hudson, you'll come up with a few listings. I believe a search escorted me out of a position. Am I upset? Hmmm... HELL YEAH! Not because I didn't get the job. I'm upset because of the reason I believe I didn't get the job. Will I ever know the "real" reason? HELL NAW!

Once again, life goes on. In my heart I know I'm talented. I'm the fabulous comedian Miss WandaLuv. I'm sexy - kinda chunky - not that FAT Chance chunk. :-)

The Post Office stamped me with a rubber marker that says Return To Sender. The one thing they surely failed to realize is this - The sender welcomed me back with open arms. When He sends me out again, get ready for Wanda D. Hudson, because there will be no limit for what my passion will allow me to do.

Monday, September 11, 2006

Wait for Love: A Black Girl's Story Reader Review

I have received many positive reviews for my novel, Wait for Love: A Black Girl's Story. This is one from a reader that I just had to share. It is posted on her blog and I asked her if I could post it here. This review made me feel more special than I already am...let me go kiss myself.

Entry for July 14, 2006 **REQUIRED READING!!** -Yahoo! 360 A BookWorms Blog

I am not even gonna lie or sugar coat anything when I tell you I was not liking this book when I first started reading it! I had no expectations and didn't build it to be anything worth talking about it. When people asked what it was about I replied by saying I'm reading trying to figure that out.
Just about 20 min ago I closed the book on Lynnette Donna Lee's life story. I know now that this book was meant to be read and it needs to become REQUIRED reading for all young girls. I'll even go as far as to say young boys only for the added value of life lessons that we learned from Lynnde.
Let me just give this quick recap of the book :
This was the most emotion filled rollercoaster ride that I have taken since reading A Woman's Worth! I literally twisted my face, got angry and cursed, wanted to put the book throw it, call somebody and slap them, run and talk to my mama, cried til my nose hurt, call up my BFF from HS, and then follow up with a song and dance to Happy Days are here!
That is just a summation of how I felt while reading this book. After first it was weird having the character of Lynnde talking to me. Yes, I did say talking to me. Most books you can become the character thru their thoughts and questions, but Wanda put a different spin on that. She actually had Lynnde talk to you and direct her every thought to you up front. At times I felt like I was intruding by reading someones diary entry because it was that vivid. Some things I read I was like did she have to take it there? Wanda has a talent in making the most visual of things so life like I swear I was right there and then when the illest of ill acts were happening to Lynnde.
Let me see I don't know where to start
I usually give blow by blow details but I tell you this is one book that is sooooo worth the read I don't want to ruin it by giving any spoilers!!When we meet Lynnde she is a very young naive teenager at the age of 18. We journey with her on this merry go round she calls life. At times it spirals out of control it takes flight and turns into a spinning top! The choices she makes are not wise ones and not only does Lynnde suffer emotionally, but her choices affect her body through poor eating habits which leads to a poor self image and lack of self worth. I won't paint the picture that she is all alone. She has a mother and a father no siblings but an awesome Best Friend by the name of Esta. Esta is like the jiminy cricket to our Lynnde. When Lynnde couldn't see the beauty or strength she possessed Esta saw it. Through all the mishaps Esta was right there telling her it's alright you just made a bad choice. Once you slow down and Wait! All things will be clear for you to see. So true and once Lynnde finally took the time to listen it really was all good in the end.
As I read this book I couldn't believe that she was so misinformed! She knew nothing and I had a hard time not calling her dumb. I don't like to use those words stupid, dumb, and clueless. But that's just what she was. I found myself getting angry at her mom wondering why if she loved her so much wouldn't she fill her in to the games of life? You have to be more prepared than Lynnde was. Not all fault and blame should go to her know the dad has a part also. She spent soooo much of her life being angry with him for past feelings never explained to her that I feel it's the main reason she made poor decisions when it came to men.
If I take anything away with me from this it is!
As a mother to three girls I want to be that mother that Lynnde needed. A loving, caring, mom that they can talk to. True Lynnde's mom did offer that after every failed attempt at love. I want my girls to come to me before! Come to me when they first experience that bark of puppy love. I want to prepare them the best I can. Let them know that it's not all Cinderalla, Sleeping Beauty and Shrek romance. There's way more to it than that. Since I do have my hunny Derek in my life I plan to tell them "our story" now with that I probably could write my own book, But hopefully through me and my past they can see their own future and know what to expect. This book has truly left a lasting impression on me and the story of Lynnde will stay with me. If you know of any young girl, woman, or anyone in a "hurry" to find love or at least their version of love..............HAND THEM THIS BOOK!!!
Wanda you did an excellent job! What a wonderful debut into the literary world! I look forward to reading many more of your novels. You truly have a way with insightful and descriptive. You've made me a fan
Bookworm Rating : 5 bookworms: What a wonderfully delicious treat!
Yummy to the very core

Friday, September 08, 2006

The Single Parent Trap

If it takes a village to raise a child, where does the village go when you need child care? The child care isn't for me to go out and hang in a nightclub, although my desire to perform stand up comedy requires that I am in this enviroment. My need for care comes from my being gainfully employed.

For the last few months my child care situation has been stressful to say the least. Child care providers deserve to get paid. They need to make a living. Just like its my job to perform a duty and get paid a decent wage, so do they. My dilema is this: If that "decent" wage isn't enough to cover your health insurance, utilites, travel expenses, family needs, and child care, what in the world are you working for?

It seems that lately I was working to pay my child care provider. If I worked overtime, I paid her overtime. She had my check spent before I did. Having other peoples hands in your pocket will keep you broke. Other people calculating how much you make and how come you don't have any money at times brings an anger that I simply cannot describe.

I am a parent that lives in the city that never sleeps, but I have no blood relatives near me. I moved from Upstate New York to live the American Dream of getting married and having a flourishing career. Once I woke up I was still single, but had a beautiful babygirl that I love.

Blended families - mommy lives here - daddy lives there - mommy married so and so's daddy - daddy is dating so and so's mommy...too much laying up to even begin to find a reason for. Send the child here, take the child there...frequent flier miles that get you nowhere.

Can a single parent work with the other parent in harmony? I can't answer that. Well then again, if you only take the child to the absent parent when it is convient for them I guess so. If I'm going to work, sure. Anything else, haha-hehe-hell-no!

It takes a village to raise a child. What if you live in a village where nobody knows your name, and nobody speaks your language? Where in the world do you live you ask? Trust me, I ask myself the same question. Is this America or...I don't want to sound racist so I won't elaborate. We're all God's children right? Well then why do you live there? I did mention something about a "decent" wage didn't I?

For me the only thing to do is keep on pushing, keep on trying to work it out. I don't believe you should stay with someone for the sake of the children. Hell, if you didn't like them before the child was born, arguing over who is going to do what isn't going to make a difference. So why in the world did you have a child with that person in the first place? I know you don't really think I'm going to answer that with anything that makes sense?

What doesn't kill you makes you stronger. True. But it sure does make you gasp for air a few times. I love my daughters. I didn't know I would be a single parent. I was raised with both of my parents in the home, but it seems like no sooner than my brother and I left they got divorced. You can be married and still be a single parent. Some say as long as they eat dinner together everynight it's okay. If you're chewing and looking at the back of the newspaper thats covering your husband's or wife's face, you're not eating together - you're eating at the same time.

I just let out a long sigh. I'm living what is in store for me. I'm loving what I'm living. The Single Parent Trap isn't one that can hurt you, but it will definitely keep you hustiling until you get it right.

Saturday, August 12, 2006


A confidant, friend, lover. These words describe a person who you can disclose your innermost thoughts to. A vent buddy. Question. If your innermost thoughts become public, who does the blame lie with? You, for telling your business - I mean, if it were truly private, you would have kept your mouth closed. Is it your CONFIDANT'S fault? Exactly what is a confidant if they tell everything you say, word for word? What good is having a voice box if you cannot utilize it for your own personal needs?

I was betrayed. Or maybe not. I vented, and then my confidant vented. The only problem was her vent was identical to mine. My human diary didn't wait twent-four hours before she told all that people didn't know a thing about, but needed to know. When my talk circled back to me, I was upset. I had revealed things of a personal nature, things that went on between the male in my life and me. See, we had an argument. A NASTY argument. I had never told any of our private business before. This time, I was MAD. Not doing things out of anger is the only route to go.

After a few days of he said-she said-they said-dayum I'm tired of talking about this-conversation, I told my once confidant, that it wasn't her fault. I said that I never should have put my personal business out. Besides, me and my significant other had discussed the issue, and decided that we both had a hand in our lifes being blown out of porportion.

That event made me think. Is it right to write a tell-all book? If you had a private life with someone, shouldn't it remain private? I'm not a fan of tell-all books. I don't care if my name is changed in the pages or not. What one or two or how many are involved do together is their business...but I guess some writers can't make it in this businesss without a bit of dirt in their pages about someone. No one likes to be talked about, but boy do we love to listen.

Just imagine if I had told more than one person. It's not like I'm a celebrity (I'm just sexy and special) but if my business went around my little world as fast as it did, and had many people in a tizzy...whew, I can only imagine how it feels to be included in the Enquirer.

Underneath all of my emotions is a tiny scar. Yes, I forgave my confidant, and decided to never tell her a thing again. I also learned that no matter what level of success you are on, there will ALWAYS be someone who thinks you don't deserve to have what you receive, even after you worked to get it. I don't know if the word betrayed exists in my case. I think what happened to me is classified as a BitchTrail. If you are trusted with someone's private thoughts, and you let them roll from your mouth like a toilet overflowing that's a bitch. When the confusion is cleaned up and the only trail leads back to you...

From now on if I have to truly vent, I'm going to write it down in my private diary. I never want to travel a BitchTrail again.

Friday, July 07, 2006

Why Can't They Come With Instructions?

I wrote this in 2003 but lately this is all I can think about! GEESH! Enjoy :-)

Do you ever wonder why you never know a person you are in love with, until you get to know them? Most of the time by then it’s too late. You can’t stand them at that point. You loathe, despise and wish you could take the air they breathe away.

Is this the voice of a bitter woman speaking? No, just a wiser one. One that will no longer fall prey to perfect on the outside but… We all know exactly what I’m talking about. The one man that you wasted your entire life for. He says everything you wanted to hear and things you never knew existed. He tells you how the ones that came before him never loved you. Let’s not forget his kind words of how he can make all the tears you cried before leave your memory without a trace. Right.

Lately, I’ve asked myself the question of how the one I thought was so perfect at the start, makes my stomach revolt upon hearing his voice now. Was I ever in love to begin with?

Why sure I was. But some people know how to twist and turn your emotions the right way so in the end, you have no choice but to despise their ass. How many times can an insecure man accuse you of lying, cheating, and being down right no good? How many times in your life should you have to hear listen to me, do it this way or you’re stupid, before you decide that you’re dealing with a broken down jealous, game playing selfish fool?

Ask yourself how much you’ve changed or given up to be with the one you love? Now ask the one you love the same question. If their answer is not identical to yours, you need to do some serious soul searching. I did; and that’s why I’m sharing my thoughts with you.

One thing that drives me nuts is this. Just because no one ever told you something about yourself before doesn’t mean it isn’t true. Sometimes sparing someone’s feelings isn’t always the right thing to do. If they’re having an off day in the breath area, let them know. Just because they have babies running around all over town, doesn’t necessarily mean their penis is the stuff Mandingos are made of.

The solution to my dilemma was simple. I let it all go. The only opinion of me that matters is mine. Let that fool take his perfect baggage into another relationship and play with someone else for a while. I’ve had enough.

But then I thought; it wasn’t fair that I had to go through it and the next person shouldn’t have to either. I know mind reading is not an option, so I came up with a brilliant idea.
Every man should come with instructions. They should have a tag attached to their shirt pockets, so you can read all about what you’re getting into. Hey, we read the instructions on appliances we buy, food labels, CD cases; what’s the difference? I know it’s a human being, but just like material possessions, we break down, too.

I think it would be fair to read about their habits, their attitudes, their sexual behavior and the infamous day they’re going to flip the billion dollar movie deal script on you.

Oh what a wonderful world this would be! No divorce, no separation, no abusive relationships, no he said she said, no baby mama drama and no having to deal with the family that’s all up in your business.

Just think, you can avoid years of heartache, headaches, worrying, wondering and wishing you could click your heels a few times simply by reading a tag. Does this sound like a winning infomercial? Good.

Of course there will also be a side effect tag instructing you on how to behave when their attitude that day isn’t what you expected. They may react a certain way ninety five percent of the time but decide to throw you for a loop the remaining five percent. Never fear; one small tag will prevent you from pulling the last two brittle hairs from your head. Instructions would eliminate so many guessing games and remove the word, huh, from your vocabulary.

You ask am I perfect? Hell no. But having a set of instructions would sure help me to be.

Thursday, June 01, 2006

He Left Me

It's finally over. Today he announced it to the world - he didn't want to be with me anymore. He said I didn't know how to treat him. I stood dumbfounded. The questions I asked were answered easily without thought, as if he didn't care.

"But, I love you."
"But, I need you."
"But, I cannot function without you."

He didn't even bother to look at me. I reached for him and he was gone. Somehow I knew our relationship would come to this. Things like this had happened between us before. We always seemed to work it out, always seemed to manage.

Big MG, my nickname for him, had finally gotten tired of my abuse of him. I utilized him at my lesiure. Especially around the holidays. I broke him down into forms that made sure he'd last just a little bit longer. Check books, credit cards, debit cards, IOU's. I loved him most when he was in his birth form. The form of green, sweet smelling paper money.

We have always had "issues". I never knew how to handle him. Everytime we got together I'd get excited and go overboard. I gave him away so many times. Sometimes I didn't really know when he would return. Silk blouses, gold jewelery, and an abundance of gourmet foods that did nothing to help my waistline. I chose greed over him and he left me.

I realized it was over between us when I reached into my purse. I grabbed my wallet and dug deep to retrieve my last twenty dollar bill. I still had three days to go before payday. I thought I'd be okay. That is until I realized that I had already spent the twenty dollars at the pizza/ice cream joint around the corner from my apartment. I had nine dollars and thirty-two cents left. I was broke. I'd hurt him again.

Money was my man. He gave me the same pleasures as any mate would. The last man I had said I smothered him. I didn't understand his reasoning but I do now. I was all over my money, all the time, and it has disappeared.

I guess you can pretty much figure out the rest. There is no sense in my making anymore excuses. It's ony fair. When you disrespect someone they have evey right to heal themselves, even if the "repairman" is another woman.

Ladies, treat your money with respect. And if you happen to see some of mine, tell him that I'm sorry.

***Okay, now I know you didn't think a man would actually leave me. I'm WandaLuv, I'm sexy.***

Tuesday, April 18, 2006

They Were Someone

As a member of various online writing groups I am treated to many topics, views and different opinions on world news, entertainment and just plain old gossip. Sometimes I respond, many times I don't. A few days ago I read a post of another member and it upset me for reasons I haven't quite come to grips with yet. I didn't respond to the poster, because I feel everyone has a right to their beliefs, but I just couldn't shake the feeling that their words left me with. My blog is a place where my opinion can be challenged, but not changed, so I decided to have a silent, public rebuttal here.

The information that shook me has to do with the disappearance of young women. Many of these women are most likely murder victims, who have suffered a horrific death. We need to know the facts as to how the victim ended up in the face of death to solve their crime. I guess the question I have is does it matter what our own personal opinion is of the person after they were killed? Especially if we didn't know them personally. These victims had families, friends, mothers, fathers. They were someone. I read that one person was tired of hearing about the girl that is missing from Alabama. She was described as a little hick that had no business going off with the men in question. The person typed as if this girl deserved to die. We don't know the true facts. Sadly, we never will. Inexperience, naivety and trust should never equal death.

No one, no matter how intoxicated, how misled or confused, has the right to be murdered. Another human being shouldn't be allowed to decide when is the last time you can be touched and shared with by your loved ones.This may be striking me so intensly because I have daughters. I was a fool many, many times. Drunk driving. Not knowing very much about a man but saying he loved me. Maybe I didn't suffer the same fate as the women that I speak of so I could write this. I'm sure that its more than this and will keep pushing until I find out exactly what it is.

A few weeks ago a young woman was found murdered and dumped on the roadway. The opinions flew about her. "Oh she was a whore, a drunk, she got what she deserved." At what moment did it become okay to say someone deserved to be murdered? We all don't receive a second chance, but should we suffer death as the result of our mistakes? Is it a mistake to tell a person no? Too many questions that will never be answered, at least satisfactory.

Human life has no meaning to some. The complexity of how our body works, the meticulous way we are created, can so easily be taken away by a bullet, our own hands or by something else manmade. As of today, I truly believe opinions are like assholes. Everyone has one and some are full of shit. The missing, the dead - they're not simply chalk outlines. They were someone. Regardless of how long it takes, or the way the met their demise, they deserve to have their stories told.

Saturday, March 11, 2006

My Write To Breathe

Today is the day I picked up my first order of bookmarks! It's also the day I mailed out copies of my book! Talk about excitement! Some may not understand or say, "What's the big deal?" It's just another book with a flimsy piece of paper to mark the pages. Oh, please don't let me hear anyone say that! If I do, the news will report it as just another ramdom butt kicking by an unknown assailant. Then a blurred sketch photo will flash across the screen, because the victim won't know what actually happened to him/her, or who did the damage.

Wait For Love: A Black Girl's Story has been a long time coming for me. At one point in my burgeoning writing career all I thought about was the word rejection. Rejection...Rejection... I seriously thought of changing my first, middle and last name to mirror this one word. Reject would come into play as my nickname.

Ahhh, the woes of becoming published. They can feel insurmountable at times; comparable to falling off a mountain that you’ve tried to climb bare handed, with no safety net to catch you, and no one to offer words of comfort. So why get up and keep trying? Why continue on a journey when many times you feel there’s no end or glory in sight. It’s simple; it’s my and your write to breathe.

If you inhale air and exhale a story, a poem or a novel, you owe it to your every fiber to continue. This is your God given talent, and no one; not a publisher, an agent, or an avid reader can take that gift away from you. Why yes, of course you need all three to be successful, but when you begin to accept their words of denial as your own, you begin to suffocate. Suffocation is not part of your write.

I type this as a voice of experience, a voice of belief. Over time, that I seem obsessed with keeping track of, I have somehow amassed a complete novel of rejection letters. I have them organized neatly in a red binder in order of their receipt. At times I peruse them, wondering how can someone in their position deny me, my novel, my excellence, a chance at being revered by the reading public. What is their problem exactly? Don’t they know this is my write, my life, and my worthiness on this earth?

It would seem they didn't for the letters of dissent kept coming. The thing I love most about the letters is not the impersonal feel of them, but the fact that I’m so good at handling rejection. I have two or three from the same publisher, each on different stationary, but with the same HELL NO signature at the bottom.

I had the idea of attempting to have my rejection letters published. I changed my mind by realizing doing so would take away from the excellent writer I am. Who wants to be known as the Queen of Rejection on their first attempt? That’s not the image I’m going to portray or the story that I have to tell.

My story is one of success. Becoming a published writer - an accomplished novelist. One who can weave a story to entice you, to hold you, to bring you inside of my world, make you stay, and tell you when it’s time to leave. Those are some of the requirements of my write to breathe.

As I neared the end of seeing Wait For Love: A Black Girl's Story in print, rejection had become a special friend of mine. Every time we met I became stronger, more determined and destined to never meet his distant cousins by way of the postal service again. Keep in mind that another can never take away what’s in you or define your life’s calling. Then go back to your typewriter or computer keys and inhale. I promise you after all of this, you will still exhale your write to breathe.

Saturday, March 04, 2006

40 Luv

With age comes wisdom, or so I've been told. With each decade comes a knowledge that will prepare you for a future of wealth, happiness, peace and abundance. Someone told me that, also. Well, I entered into another decade with grace, and yes, I feel more confident than ever.

March 2nd, 2006, I Wanda D. Hudson, turned forty years sexy. I remember vividly when I was sixteen counting the years that it would take for me to reach the age of forty. Thinking it was a long way off is the one thought I remember the most. Whoever said time sure flies when your having fun spoke the truth. Time also does some Starship Enterprise stuff when your finding your way without a road map, and if you had one, you couldn't read it anyway.

I think from the age of twenty-two until I was thirty-three I was kind of stupid. I won't say I was totally ignorant, because I knew I had to work, have shelter and pay bills to survive. But I look at many things about my history and slap myself. (I then apologize by eating something...hehehe) Many ideas of who I wanted to become didn't settle in until I was thirty-five, and many parts of my being claimed that it was too late - a broken heart and used body equaled damaged goods. Then I thought about the Salvation Army. You can get a GREAT deal on the used items there. Suddenly, being refurbished became a goal I reached for with both hands, with my mind, and with my used body.

At forty I have so many plans for my future, so many dreams that will happen while I'm awake - so many beautiful reasons why I luv who I am, and why I luv where I came from. Many of us want to stay young or turn back the hands of time. Honestly, if I could go back and be sixteen again, with the knowledge I have now of course, I would. Since there is no human that is able to hit a rewind button, or a time machine that will transport me, I'll keep my sexy self here and keep on pushin'.

There are a few things that I need to find out as being true in my new decade. One being, is sex better in your forties? Is this the decade when older women begin to find younger men more attractive? And in your forties, do you really get "IT"? And do you really give a damn if "IT" even exists?

Two days have passed since my birthday and I still feel confident. I'm more secure with simply being me, and more secure with the extra pounds that I'm carrying, not that I'm going to wear a belly shirt and show you, but these extra pounds are all mine to luv. I feel like whatever it is that I need He is going to make sure I have it. I'm not going to stress anymore over my wants. I feel postive that my daughters will open up their hearts and learn from their mama, luv her, and not be ashamed of where she has been. I feel good, people. I feel real good.

There is no need for me to volley right now. 40 Luv is a score I want to hold onto for awhile.

Tuesday, January 24, 2006

Wait For Love:A Black Girl's Story / Excerpt

The first month of the new year is more than halfway over and I haven't posted a thing. I think it would soothe the souls of all that have missed me (smile, smile, smile)to make up my error to you all by posting an excerpt from my new novel, Wait For Love: A Black Girl's Story. Although my last post was titled Promotional Suicide, I believe in this instance that is not the case. A blog is a website-less individuals way of reaching readers so...

Wait For Love: A Black Girl's Story is available at all online book sellers, and by emailing yours truly at



As my mild shock wore off I looked him in his eyes. A different man looked back at me. For the first time, I saw him as my husband and he saw me as his wife. He knew he wouldn’t deny me tonight.

“Are you sure this is what you want, Lynnde?”

“Desmond, let’s not talk anymore. I love you.”

Desmond began undressing me, working his way around my body from top to bottom, and back up once I was unclothed.

“Lynnde, you’re beautiful.”

He continued to kiss me and helped me to lie down on the floor. This was worth the wait. I lie on the floor caressing my body as Desmond undressed himself for my eyes to see. This was going to be perfect. He was going to be perfect for the rest of my life.

I admired Desmond’s naked body, which was quite pleasing, until my eyes saw “it.” What was “it,” you ask? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. I’m not a day care provider. Why did all of a sudden I feel like I was in nursery school? Now I know why he made me wait so long. He knew I wasn’t going to get anything. I’d continue to wait if I’d known this.

Desmond’s penis was the size of a Chap Stick tube. No, no it wasn’t. It was more like the size of a Vicks inhaler that had nothing else left to inhale. Picture a sweet gherkin pickle? Or how about a fat free Vienna sausage? Does that help you to understand what my eyes didn’t see? I can’t believe I waited a year and a half for nothing. Good things come to those who wait my ass.

But, Lynnde, wait. You love him. He’s your soul mate. He’s perfect for you. You want to spend the rest of your life with him. Look at all the roses. Think of the poems. Think of how nice he was to you when you got sick at the club, remember? You’re his queen and he wants to take care of you. He loves you.

“He can’t take care of anything with that midget dick of his.”

“Okay, okay calm down. Sex isn’t everything. You can work this out.”

Oh no, he’s coming towards me and rubbing that little creature up and down my leg. Ugh. He’s having surgery. There has to be something out there that’ll help. A transplant, implant or a pump. Wait, not a pump. A pump will just make it look swollen, like a fat lip or something. I don’t want to do this at all. Right now, all I feel is disgust. He shouldn’t take too long. Damn, he’s kissing me and saying sweet nothings, and I’m really emphasizing the word nothing. I guess he’s really in the mood. My mind is so far away from this moment.

Now he’s trying to enter inside me. Ugh. All I feel is aggravation. Desmond is really enjoying himself. He’s really giving that little thing a workout. He keeps saying, “Oh, Lynnde, you feel so good.” How would he know? I guess I should look like I’m enjoying him, but all I want to do is tell him to get his earthworm out of me. I manage to say, “Desmond, you feel so good,” and “don’t stop.” Keep thinking how much you love him and how much he loves you. Those thoughts aren’t working. I want him to hurry up. Now he’s making a screeching noise. It sounds like car tires on a wet road that have just run over a hissing cat. If this is what his orgasms are going to sound like, I hope I go deaf tonight.

Stop it, Lynnde. Desmond loves you and will give you the world if he could. Good, he’s done. I hope he doesn’t talk. I hoped too late. He says he loves me and can’t wait for me to become his wife. I barely get out the words I love you in return and hear snoring. Oh, hell no. No pleasure for me and he’s asleep? You love him. You love him. You love him. That’s not working right now. Okay then, look at the ring and your roses. That’s not working either. No wonder that fool spent so much on the ring and wants to pay for the wedding. And who does he think is going to water all these flowers, and clean them up when they die?

Lynnde, sex isn’t everything and you know you love Desmond, right? “Yeah, right. But all of a sudden I feel used. He made sure I was in love with him before he let me see his Brown and Serve. Wait until we were committed to each other, my ass. He should be committed and promoted to the newborn baby club president. Ugh.

A tiny wet spot is on my inner thigh and I want to throw up. I sat up to take a closer look at what he thinks is a penis, but it retreated back inside itself. What I saw made me think if a fly had a penis this is what it would look like. Tsk, even his balls are little. They look like burnt, dried, button mushrooms. Lynnde!

Desmond’s boxer underwear are lying on the floor. First thing in the morning, I’m taking them to the store and get his money back. I’ll buy him a pack of toddler under-roos to replace them. Disgust won’t let me talk anymore. I hope I have some hard liquor in the cabinet because the only way I’m sleeping next to him is drunk. Hurry up tomorrow, because tonight has got to go.

© Wanda D. Hudson 2006