Posts Tagged ‘writing’

“Hello?” That lone words echoes throughout this empty chamber. “Anyone here?”

"Life is No Fairytale", "Agape", "The BoogeyMann": these titles can be found at Amazon.com

“Life is No Fairytale”, “Agape”, “The BoogeyMann”: these titles can be found at Amazon.com

Man, it’s been a long time since I’ve been here raving about whatever random thought that happened to cross my mind (clears dust from the furniture as I move about the place nostalgically). The Ravings of a Madman. That’s what this blog was all about. There was no advice given. No interviews posted. Nothing to really help anyone who stumbled along my blog. Just me raving, like some senile old man you might come across in your daily travels. (Clicks the light switch into the on position, illuminating the space). I actually missed this place. You see, I’m a writer. I was a full-time writer, dedicating at least eight hours a day to my craft. Not everything I wrote was good. Some of my stuff is genius. My young adult, horror novel, “The BoogeyMann” is pretty sweet. It has a four and a half star rating on Amazon, eight reviews. There’s my young adult, romance, “Life is no Fairytale.” In my opinion, it’s better than my debut novel. My latest release is “Agape”, a Christian, fantasy novel — my greatest body of work so far. Yep. I was a full-time writer, then my son Benjamin came along last year. With his arrival, I was instantly promoted to a stay-at-home dad like that guy on “Doc McStuffin” — you can’t see it, but I’m shrugging nonchalantly. Anyway, Benjamin demands a lot of my attention, resulting in me not being able to work like I use to. I thought I would have more time to work the older he got, but that turned out to be untrue. The more he grows the more mobile he becomes, and the more he moves about the more attention he warrants. I wouldn’t trade my son for anything in the world though, and thankfully I’ve been able to coast on my previous year of nonstop work.

My pride and joy, Benjamin.

My pride and joy, Benjamin.

That’s enough about me. I didn’t come here to give you a history lesson, but I thought it important to reintroduce myself. The reason I am here is to rave. What’s on the Madman’s mind today? Shameless advertising to children. There’s a previous blog of mine where I rave about advertisements. I hate advertisements. I think they should be only ten seconds, or less. They should have a lone person in front of a camera while holding the product they want to sell, and a plain background would suffice. Tell me what it is, what it does, then say goodbye — like a James Patterson book commercial. So you see my dislike for commercials, but there is something I hate more than aggravating advertisements. I hate commercials for kids.

 

 

 

This image from "Poltergeist" best illustrates advertisement effects on children.

This image from “Poltergeist” best illustrates advertisement effects on children.

Kids are gullible by nature and they want everything you put before them. My son Benjamin is not of the age where he  repeats, “I want that!” all day long, but the time will come and I don’t appreciate commercials that tell kids what to do. “Go ask your parents to take you to our website.” “Tell your parents to buy you this now.” “Drink water instead of soda.” “Go outside and play.” First of all, I know how to raise my child. Don’t come into my house and tell him to go outside and play. You don’t know where I live and if it’s a safe environment. I know how to distribute water and soda. Maybe I don’t want my child on my computer, and don’t have my kid asking for something you (advertisers) and I both know he doesn’t need. What makes me so angry about advertisements tailored for kids is the fact that they know parents are not so easily persuaded so they brainwash the children. Then these mindless zombies come to the adults begging for this and demanding that. Children are not smart enough to read the small print on these commercials. The small print that says, “We’re not responsible for any whippings you might incur.” And a spanking is what my child will get if he becomes a middleman for the money grubbing ad firms.

Sure, there are ways to limit a child’s exposure to stranger danger: lessen a child’s TV time, streaming from programs like Netflix, buying relatively commercial free DVD’s, or monitoring what they watch. Any of these methods could work, but it still burns me up to know that those no good scoundrels are still out there.

http://www.bnewsome.yolasite.com

www.nubieninks.yolasite.com

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It is finally here, folks! The time that I have been eagerly awaiting, and the time you all have been dreading. The release of my second novel, Life is no Fairytale, is upon us. Now I shall zip throughout cyberspace leaving news about my latest release all over the place while you all groan and silently ask that I stop bombarding you with this stuff. Facebook friends will mysteriously disappear, and Twitter followers will unfollow. Those who subscribe to my blog will delete their email notifications, unread. Ah! Being an author among the independent presses is a wonderful experience, I must say.

Now gather around all you under the sound of my virtual voice–which sounds a lot like Barry White, by the way–and let me tell you why Life is no Fairytale is worth the purchase. Let me tell you why Life is no Fairytale is worth your six dollars. I’m not going to point out the fact that you have the Twilight saga sitting on your bookshelves, which ran you about fifty dollars. I’m not going to point out the fact that you have Fifty Shades of Grey on your eReader, or that Zane is secretly your favorite author. I’m not going to point out any of these embarrassing facts. What I will point out, though, is that these books were written by women (and I’m not sure if a woman wrote Fifty Shades, but it’s a safe bet). Women own the romance market, and rightfully so, it’s a dreadfully boring genre. Now hold on! No need for you ladies to get all uptight. We all know that romance novels are full of talk, talk, blabbity talk, that eventually leads to a quick romp in the stable, or behind some bush, or on the deck of some boat. That’s the only reason people read romance novels anyway; in hopes of reaching the part where the wind blows through the crack of some woman’s naked arse while they make love to a stranger. My novel has none of that, and you want to know why? Well, first, my novel is suitable for both the mature and young crowd. Second, my novel was written by me, a man, and romance appears to be different for men than it is women. While sex is so abundant for women–so much so that they can stumble across it in a stank barn–it tends to be elusive for most men. Even married men who have a marriage license that guarantees them action rarely see any. If you’re looking for reading material that has a terrible plot, and lots of sex, you might want to try picking up a playboy.

You’re probably asking yourself, “What does his novel offer if there’s no sex involved?” Well, I’m glad you asked, you undercover pervert. My novel offers a tale of romance from a man’s point of view. It contains love, heartache, and humor to keep things from getting too mushy and boring. My character, Carmichael Lee Jones, will snare your attention in the beginning as he awaits his beautiful bride, Jocelyn. He takes you on a journey, back to when he first met Jocelyn in middle school. Carmichael talks about how the two of them were torn apart by circumstances, and blessed to be reunited in highschool, only to be broken up again by heartache. Through a series of unforseen events, Carmichael and Jocelyn come together once more as adults despite unfavorable circumstances. And as Carmichael recalls the passage he and Jocelyn took, the wedding is steadily progressing around him. The book is called Life is no Fairytale because in real life, true love is rarely a quick and easy thing to obtain, and it never seems to work out like you imagine it should. Life is no Fairytale is titled that because it was inspired by the Grimm Brothers’ fairytale Rapunzel which is not a pretty story itself; therefore, my title is saying, even a fairytale isn’t a fairytale.

Now you’re probably saying to yourself, “Well, that sounds like a bunch of talkity-talk and it doesn’t even lead to a sex scene.” And you’re probably right, but there’s a distinct difference between my ramblings and someone else’s ramblings. Mine is interesting, and a person who reviewed my debut novel, The BoogeyMann, even made the same comment.

 …Big thumbs up for originality, this is not the story it seems to be at first glance. Starting with a humorous twist at the end of the first chapter, Bennie takes a family of seemingly ordinary people and weaves a peculiar but intriguing story that keeps you on the edge of your seat. It takes real talent to make what seems so mundane on the surface into something so interesting.

Now you know about my novel, Life is no Fairytale. I highly recommend that you check it out for yourself. At least do yourself a favor. Read something that you don’t have to hide from your children, or spouse–and I’m talking about your dirty little secret, the Twilight saga. Heck, you’ll even find yourself sharing this novel with your family because it’s a must read by all. Life is no Fairytale is now available. If you have an eReader, that’s marvelous. If you don’t, that’s still no excuse. eBooks are available in multiple formats so you can download them to anything. If you’re reading this blog, then you have the capability to download an eBook, and Amazon.com even offers free Kindle downloads for the PC. Check it out. Where can you go to find my latest novel? I’m glad you asked.

Desert Breeze Publishing website: http://stores.desertbreezepublishing.com/-strse-339/Life-is-No-Fairy/Detail.bok

And it’s available on amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Life-Is-Fairy-Tale-ebook/dp/B0094I00EA/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1346592310&sr=8-2&keywords=Life+is+no+Fairytale

I hope you enjoy. If you liked my novel, let me know. If it wasn’t your cup of tea, I thank your for your patronage anyhow. God bless… May the Force be with you… Peace–whatever your inclination.

–the Ravings of a Madman

(review was transferred from my website: http://www.bnewsome. yolasite.com)

Every once in a while, I’ll read some crappy piece of writing that makes me scowl at the Independent Presses. Then I come across writing like that in Little Bernie’s Map and I think Independent Presses aren’t all bad. Of course, Little Bernie’s Map was not published by an Independent Press, but you understand what I’m saying.

I met Troy (virtually, mind you) a few months ago when I was participating in NaNoWriMo for the first time. November is long gone, but we keep in touch through Twitter’s #WW and #FF and the occasional clicking of the like button on Facebook–best of acquaintances. Anyway, I caught wind of Troy’s short story on Facebook. He was giving the book away on Amazon for a limited time, and I thought, What the hey! It’s free, why not get it? So I downloaded the short story and let it sit on my Kindle for PC with the other stuff that I don’t read. Mind you, I have been disheartened by some of the work I’ve read from Independent Presses, so I don’t read them too much. I also hate reading stories on my computer. It feels too much like work. So Troy’s story sat there and I was content to let it be, that is, until I needed someone else’s work to feature on my website. I don’t know about you, but I’m tired of seeing The BoogeyMann stuff all over my website. I wanted a breath of fresh air, so I thought, Let me see what Troy’s story is about.

I must say that I respect Troy as a writer, and I didn’t want to lose that respect by reading any of his work. Once again, it’s my experience with the Indie Presses. I found that I respect a writer, read their work, find myself thinking, What the hell was that? then lose said respect. Disheartening, like I said before. However, after reading Little Bernie’s Map, my respect for Troy grew. The man is a talented writer and this was showcased in his short story about a family returning home from vacation they couldn’t afford. Daniel, the main character, has just been laid-off; therefore, he and his wife anticipate harsh times to come. As the story progresses, their son Bernie is discovered to have a map (given to him by a stranger) and this map proves to have some mystical powers. The tale was full of wonderful imagery and I was so impressed that I went and purchased another story of Troy’s, The Uninvited Guest. This one won’t be sitting on my computer collecting…dust…in a manner of speaking. When you get a chance, go on over to Amazon and get an ebook copy of Little Bernie’s Map. It’s only 99 cents. What the hey? Why not?

A blogger friend of mine, MsKatykins, asked how my son Benjamin was doing. Because no one wants to receive a response that’s the length of an essay, a respectful answer would be, “He’s fine. Just as active as ever. Thanks for asking!” That’s the proper way to answer such a question; however, I decided to blog my response because I’m not typical. I’m a writer who just so happens to have a kid, and that kid provides me with a lot of writing material. The child is a gold mine, or at least, he was a gold mine when he was younger. 

For those of you who have not been keeping count, Benjamin is six months now (he’ll be seven in a week). And during these last couple of months, the relationship my son and I have has matured. You’re probably saying to yourself that that’s good news, and I agree with you, but it doesn’t really leave me with a lot to rave about nowadays. You remember the ravings, don’t you? Well, most of you do. And for those of you who are new to The Ravings of a Madman, let me catch you up real quick. A few months ago, when Benjamin and I were getting to know each other, we were known to have our share of spats. After our falling outs, I would come here and blog about the arguments I (a grown man) had with an infant. 

And don’t get your dandruff up, no need to call child services. Our fights never ended in fisticuffs. We just got loud with one another. 

So, three months ago, Shardae went back to work leaving me and Benjamin to ourselves. It was rough going at first, and I will admit that I was terrified. I mean, who could I hand the baby off to when a problem arose — such as him crying for no particular reason. Well, I was forced to learn my baby and now there’s not a problem I can’t handle. As a matter of fact, I’m better with him than his mother (which I throw in her face on a regular basis), but that doesn’t stop him from favoring her more. For instance, he said his first word a couple of weeks ago, and it turned out to be “Momma.” Not “Dada”, who he looks to when he’s hungry, or needs a diaper change. His first word was “Momma.” That’s fine, though. I was just happy to hear him speak. Now, back to the point I was trying to make. Benjamin and I are in sync, so we don’t fight as much, which results in me blogging about him less (more like none). I mean, who wants to read me gushing about, “My baby just said his first word, y’all!” and, “My baby is rolling over!” or “My baby is eating solid foods now!” Yeah, it’s exciting for me and his mother, but you could care less, I’m sure. 

Now, don’t get me wrong. Although Benjamin and I are on better terms now, we still have our share of arguments. Just the other day, I had fallen asleep on the living room floor (and I can’t recall why I was on the floor in the first place). I couldn’t sleep peacefully because it was uncomfortable, so I decided to retire to my room and nap in the bed. Well, Benjamin and Shardae was in the bedroom. Benjamin was playing on the bed, and Shardae was doing whatever she does on the computer. I flopped down on Shardae’s side of the bed — because Benjamin was on my side — and I tried to go to sleep. Notice the emphasis on “tried.” As soon as I closed my eyes, Benjamin started screaming, probably fussing at me to get out of the bed. When I refused to leave, he started hitting me and kicking me, while keeping up his hollering. 

“Hey, boy!” I said. “You have your own room, and your own bed. If you have a problem with sharing my bed with me, then you know where you can go.” 

And with that said, I dozed off — intermittently, of course. The boy kept kicking, clawing, and screaming. His mother eventually carried him into his room, and the dispute ended with Benjamin and I napping for quite some time — separately. So, Benjamin and I still have disagreements on a daily basis, but nothing blog worthy. 

MsKatykins, you probably didn’t want a response that’s the length of an essay, so to make a long blog post short, “Benjamin’s fine. Just as active as ever. Thanks for asking!” 😉

I turn 26-years-old tomorrow. Yep. July 16th is my birthday and has been every since I was born…26 years ago. Well, May December Publications and I thought it was a good idea to do a free ebook giveaway in celebration of me turning 26. So let me sum things up for you. This ebook giveaway is my birthday celebration and your party favor is…well, your party favor is the free ebook. Won’t you celebrate with me? Bottom lip poked out, eyes wide, “Won’t you pretty please celebrate with me?” Go to the following link and get your party favor: http://www.amazon.com/The-BoogeyMann-ebook/dp/B007SC793O/ref=tmm_kin_title_0?ie=UTF8&m=AG56TWVU5XWC2&qid=1342285364&sr=1-1 If you don’t want to read the book, just go on over, click the like button, and download it anyway. Don’t have an ereader? Amazon gives you a free Kindle app for your computer. I mean,  can we make this giveaway any easier? Well, that’s enough of that. Let this shameless plug lead me into today’s blog: A Spirit of Fear.

The Holy Bible states that God did not give us a spirit of fear. WAIT! Don’t you go running off! I’m not about to preach to you. I’m just making a biblical reference. Better now? Go on, catch your breath. Alright, let’s resume.

So the Bible states that God did not give us a spirit of fear. But I observe my five-month-old son and wonder where does fear come from if God did not implant us with it. How does Benjamin know what to be afraid of when he hasn’t learned what to fear?

Truth time. I roared at my son. It was a couple of months ago, and it wasn’t a malicious roar. You know the kind where you place your hands above your head, make finger claws, put on a crazy looking face, and, “WRRRRAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGH!” What do you expect? I’m the author of The BoogeyMann. Anyway, Benjamin became visibly startled, then his face scrunched up, and he began to cry. Of course his mother scolded me for that, and I’m like, “What?! How was I suppose to know he knew to be afraid?” I mean, really! How does a three-month-old baby know that this is frightening?

That wasn’t the only time I noticed that we, as humans, are born with a sense of fear. My child and I were walking through the hallway of our apartment. It was dark. I held the bouncer he sat in so his face was turned toward me. Just to make conversation, I said, “Hey, buddy. What’s going on?” Well, once again, he became startled, then his face scrunched up and he began to cry. “What’s the matter?” I asked as I hurried to get him into the light of the kitchen so he could see my face. “It’s just me. It’s Daddy. Not a monster.” It took a few seconds, but he eventually calmed down. There were a couple more instances of me roaring (because I like to roar at little babies, apparently). One time I was sitting right in front of him. He was staring at me. Eventually I tired of the awkward silence and said, “Hey.” The child visibly flinched, then cried. I’m like, “What the hell?”

“He didn’t expect you to say anything,” his mother said.

Whatever.

Because of these instances, I believe that we were born with a certain amount of fear. How would a baby know to fear the dark and monsters when he has not even seen Friday 13th or A Nightmare on Elm Street? He doesn’t know what a monster is. Benjamin does not know what could possibly lurk in the darkness, and yet he already knows to fear these things. It’s crazy.

My initial theory was that we were given the spirit of fear. However, that time when Benjamin was staring at me and he became startled when I spoke brought another possibility to mind. In the animal kingdom (which we humans are a part of), mammals get their instincts from nursing on their mother. They learn their enemies from information passed on through the milk. They learn what to fear. When I saw my baby become startled, even though he had been staring at me the whole time, I realized that he could have gotten that scary side from his mother. She is (and don’t tell her I told you this) as scary as they come. I have gotten to the point where I have to say, “I’m about to touch you now.” I warn her that I’m going to touch her, I touch her, then she flinches. “I just told you I was going to touch you!” I say. Then she says something about her nerves being bad, or my hand was cold. Whatever. When I go through the apartment, I sometimes call out, “I’m coming to such-and-such,” or “I’m walking behind you. Don’t be alarmed.” There have been times when I would say, “I’m coming up behind you,” then I approach her from the side and she still becomes startled. She is just easily frightened. She won’t even let me have scary movies in the house, and I love scary movies. Probably why she doesn’t even read my writings which are suitable for children. Adventure Time on Cartoon Network freaks her out. Then again, Courage the Cowardly Dog gives me the willies sometimes.

Back to the point I was trying to make. Baby mammals get their instincts and fears from nursing. Benjamin breastfed for a time. If he got his fears from his mother, then that would be everything under the sun. Man! I sure hope it’s not inherited fear. A spirit of fear can be tamed. Inherited fear is for life. And I like to jump out of shadows, and from around corners, and roar. What am I ever to do with a scary child?

My latest blog can be found over at my website: www.bnewsome.yolasite.com. Stop on by. My website could really use the traffic.

This is where the magic happens, where my imagination comes to life. This is my office. I use to do my work while sitting on the floor. I would prop my back on the side of my bed, my computer monitor sat on the bedside table, and the keyboard sat in my lap. Now I have a desk, and as you can see, Shardae allowed me to have a section of the bedroom wall. Yeah, I’m doing it big now.

Do you see that computer sitting on my desktop? That’s my most prized possession. If there was a fire in my home, the computer would be the first thing I ran to save, you know, after I secured my lady and child. I remember being a kid and having my folks ask me what I wanted for Christmas. “I want a computer,” would always be my response. Then my folks would comeback with, “What else do you want?” I didn’t want anything else. Owning a computer was my greatest desire. I guess I always knew I wanted to be a writer… that and I really wanted to be able to play Solitaire whenever the mood struck me. After being denied a computer for three consecutive years, my reply to what I wanted for Christmas became, “It doesn’t matter.” Why ask me what I want if I was never going to get it? I’m 25-years-old now and my response to, what do you want for Christmas, is still, “It doesn’t matter.”

Well, when I became an adult and started making my own money, one of the first major purchases I made was to buy a computer. I didn’t start writing right away. I did a bit of poetry, but I mainly listened to music, watched DVD’s, and of course, played Solitaire. One day I pawned my computer in order to pay my car note, but I made sure I got it back, and once I had it I promised never to pawn it again. I had a feeling that my computer was going to be extremely valuable in forging my future, so I couldn’t risk losing it. I never pawned my computer again no matter how tight money got.

I wrote my first book on that computer. I was pretty proud of myself, but I didn’t receive any encouragement from those around me. I tried to get the story published, was discouraged at the result, and I postponed my dream.

Sometime later, I remember accidentally dropping my monitor and breaking it so I couldn’t use my computer. I was unhappy about that. Shardae and I had just started dating then and she got me this old-fashion, bulky monitor from her sister. Shardae has always reluctantly supported me. And by reluctantly I mean, she voiced her disagreement about my decision to be a writer, and she has never read a word I wrote, but she does stuff like find me a monitor to replace my broken one, or rid my computer of viruses when it got sick that one time. It was Shardae who inspired me to work on my second book, Agape. I finished it back in 2009, but I never got it published. It’s now due for publication this September.

I eventually got a better looking, slimmer monitor and around that time I began to write seriously. The next book I would write was called, The BoogeyMann. I wrote dozens of short stories on that computer, and four novels. When everyone else was trying to discourage me from being a writer, my computer would encourage me with a swiveling screensaver that said, Bennie L. Newsome. The computer was my personal cheerleader, voicelessly yelling my name.

My computer and I have come a long way. We have achieved quite a bit and the two of us are still working to obtain greater heights. If there was a fire in my home, the first thing I would rush to save is my computer, you know, after I secured my lady and child. I do plan on replacing my computer one day, with a more updated model. The machine is not what I’m attached to. It’s the dream that a little child had years ago. The dream to be a renown writer like his favorite author, R.L.Stine. So yeah, I’ll replace my computer with a faster, sleeker model, and create another swiveling screensaver that will read, Bennie L. Newsome. And that new computer will continue to cheer me own as I trudge onward to greatness.