A To Z Reflections 2019 #atozchallenge

Congratulations to all those who completed the A to Z Challenge!

It was my fourth kick at this challenge and though I changed course part way, I sort of finished.

Sort of finished…

I fell to my “back-up” plan and posted old songs I haven’t heard in years according to the alphabet.

But I’m still going to give my four reflections on my A to Z Challenge experience today like other participants.

Reflection #1: NO more continuous fiction stories. The ones I wrote before worked out since I only had one character. I can’t post any old words just to keep up with a challenge – quality over quantity. But I will be continuing the story off-blog for my email subscribers during summer time;

Reflection #2: “One” word or shorter titles like What Sandra Thinks and The Dream Girl Writes are the way to go for these challenges. I truly enjoyed the lightness, flexibility and variety of their posts;

Reflection #3: If my posts are not prescheduled ahead of time, I’m not participating. I have yet to spend April reading other’s posts and not writing against the calendar;

Reflection #4: April is NOT a good writing month for me. Work deadlines, tax filing month and putting sweat into A to Z posts that are unrelated to my (many) unfinished projects is not a good leverage of my writing time.

Conclusion: I think it’s safe to say that 2019 might have been my last participation A to Z Challenge. But if you’ve never done it, I would strongly encourage you to.

If you didn’t participate but are curious to read the wonderful blogs of those who did, click here.

I’ll be using this as part of my summer reading list!

Bisous,

M xoxo

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Diverted, Not Defeated #atozchallenge

Challenges are always a great way to get me motivated.

However this April’s A to Z Challenge will become an OFFLINE challenge during May and June.

Not only do I feel at ease with my decision to change course, but I’ve lifted a weight from my own shoulders.

I can give you all the reasons (besides the usual) for why, but here are just a few:

  • it’s tax time and the ish needs to get done;
  • memoir writing and dance classes I signed my folks up for to get them more active and engaged requires temporarily switching up my schedule; and
  • doing ground work on a project now that should lighten my load later this summer.

But more importantly, I’m simply not willing to write anything just to post something to keep up with the A to Z Challenge.

I have other installments alread drafted but I prefer let my ideas develop organically. Going back and dropping Easter eggs into previous sections of a story is not easy and requires some thought.

And…I truly like where my story is going so I’m not going to rush it.

My email subscribers will continue to have access to my offline draft that is now open for “comment” but you’ll see that as of “H”, I’ve only been posting the songs linked to each installment I had planned.

That’s where it’s at friends – I’ve diverted but I’m not defeated.

So, if you just stumbled across my blog, for the rest of this month’s A to Z Challenge, I will only be posting the song links that inspired my A to Z Challenge story.

If you are interested in what I wrote from “A” to “G”, feel free to go back to the beginning by CLICKING HERE.

And like I said, readers who are on my mailing list will continue to have access to my in-progress story offline as well as be able to make comments.

Bisous,

M xoxo

 

 

 

 

A is for “Another Lover Hole N Yo Head” #atozchallenge

Another Lover Hole n Yo Head

*Niko*

Another city, another sold out concert.

The excitement and energy in the air before every big venue is always palpable but I’m used to it. I have long perfected the art of blocking out the machinations of the arena staff, stage panel crew, sound checks that don’t require my presence and the venue managers team running up and down the hallways behind my dressing room door.

Look, I adore sharing myself and music with my loyal fans and would do almost anything to make them happy. I mean, I agreed to this ridiculously grueling tour because of some social media campaign a fan started and that my manager thought I should follow through on. I didn’t feel like touring so soon again but I did it for them. If that’s not love for my fans, I don’t know what is.

But I won’t fool you. Though I love touring, I’m slowly starting to hate it. And these days, all I keep thinking about is when this tour is over and I can slow the pace down.

I’m just so tired.

Not only am I physically exhausted but I truly need a mental break from the damn promotional events, the groupies, having the paparazzi all up in my shit and escorting my girlfriend Chelsea to her press junkets on the rare days that I’m back in New York between concerts.

From a distance, I can hear the band practicing one of the new song arrangements suggested by Bobby, my manager. He thinks that we should spice up some of the slower tunes with a fresher beat and though I reluctantly agreed to it, I hate the changes.

When I write songs, they capture what I am feeling in the moment and believe me when I say that I’ve never written anything with a reggaeton or techno-style beat in mind. I have nothing against those trendy tunes on the radio these days but dropping a beat to some of my slow love songs just to satisfy a younger demographic?

Fuck no. I mean, the new arrangements aren’t total shit but they just aren’t…me. My diehard fans won’t mind but like me, I know they will always prefer the tried and true originals.

I squeeze my eyes shut as Diana, also known as Dirty Diana or DD for short, applies foundation to my face.

Who gave her that stupid nickname? I hope that it wasn’t me in my younger shit-stupid days.

Out of respect and unlike some of the others from the crew that actually called her DD, I always call her by her real name. Diana stopped reacting to the nickname years ago but I’m sure that it was a bitter pill to swallow. It’s only on days like today when she is on her flirt with me that I call her DD in my head. For the past hour, she has been applying the industrial strength concert ready make-up on my face to withstand the hot arena lights and all the sweating I will do.

I hate sitting still for so long. It’s the worst kind of slow torture when I’m pumped up and raring to get onstage to bathe in the screams, the bright lights, the band and the fans giving me all of their energy.

I’m tired of this life but yet it gives me life. It’s a fucking contradiction that I juggle with every day.

But yeah, this rockstar lifestyle is starting to lose its’ glow.

One too many cities with virtually no rest in between, the exhaustion is creeping up on me and killing my creative juices. When I’m on the road like this, I have no time to write new music and that’s what I live for. My first true love is song writing. Sharing and performing my songs somehow ended up being a natural by-product of it all. I haven’t really sat at a piano or picked up my guitar to just jam for the fun of it in at least four months and I’m itching to get back in that groove.

“Niko, stop frowning! You’re messing up my beautiful canvas.” Diana scolds. She has clearly been in flirt mode with me over the past few cities. The last thing I want is to cheat with her or any other woman now that I’ve made up my mind to make things work with Chelsea. “What are you thinking about that’s making you tense up like that?”

I realize that I’m frowning enough to interrupt her work on me so I open my eyes and try my best to relax my face. She’s smiling down at me with a foundation brush angled near my cheek.

“Sorry.” I return her smile. “Nothing really. Just thinking about…stuff.”

Since rejoining the tour, Diana has been sporting super straight black extensions, reminiscent of Cher in her younger days and a deep fake-a-bake tan. When I first saw her, I didn’t even recognize her. I’m not sure what “look” DD is going for these days but I do know that I prefer the original Diana with the fair-skin and red hair. I can’t understand why she just doesn’t want to look like herself but to each his or her own. Women are just too complicated to figure out and I stopped trying years ago.

Rumor has it that she is still reeling from a bad break-up, that she is reinventing herself and that she’s on the prowl for a rebound. I don’t know about all the other shit but from her overt sexy come-ons to me, I know that she definitely has me on the brain.

Each and every time Diana works on me, I wonder how many hours it takes her to put herself together – the make-up, sexy outfits, killer heels, and nails long enough to take someone’s eye out. I have never seen her makeup-less (or less than “fleek” in her words), even when we were sexing each other every chance we got during last year’s European tour.

“Well, you must be thinking about something because you are totally, totally tense.”

Diana shoves the brush into her make-up artist belt, swivels the chair around and proceeds to sweep her palms lightly across my shoulder blades before massaging them hard and deep. I won’t fool you, the kneading of her strong hands feels amazing and immediately melts my tenseness away. I close my eyes, drop my head forward and groan loudly. I try my best to ignore the fact that she is purposely pressing her tits into my back.

Fuck, her hands are like magic. Then again, DD has always had skilled hands.

When her hands slide from my shoulders down to my chest to caress my pecs, she startles me with her hot breath against my ear.

“Hmm, I know of a much better way to relax you before this show…”

Diana swivels the makeup chair back around and before I know it, Diana forces my legs open and is on her knees between my thighs. Her seductive stare from under her false eyelashes tells me what she has in mind as both of her hands trail their way to my zipper.

DD is definitely on a mission and is coming for me…hard.

© Copyright 2019 Marquessa Matthews. All Rights Reserved

PART 2 of this installment – For my email subscribers, you received a link to access the rest of this installment in your inbox. If you are interested in reading the rest of this installment, feel free to sign up for my email list and I’ll add you to my private folder as soon as I can (depending on the time-zone difference).

Monday Musings: A Different Kind of Flirting

I’m on social media to learn the few ins and outs because of my author aspirations. I’m also around to follow other indie writers, indie artists and all around awesome people whose work I admire.

And over the few years that I’ve been social media, I’ve made a number of online friends with whom I chat on different social media platforms. You know, emails or DMs about regular stuff like the craft of writing, fiction writing, travel, work, that hot guy on Hawaii Five-O celebrities…regular stuff.

I also exchange one-on-one quite a bit with those on my newsletter list too.

It’s one thing to get “helllloooooo cutie” and “how you doing?” from creepy-ish guys that I don’t know. No go, no thanks.

But what I don’t understand are guys that I’ve already exchanged with who start off as “okay” with funny and maybe off-color jokes but then quickly slip into the risqué zone and then nose dive into the “hell no” category.

It’s almost as if these guys were simply waiting for the perfect opportunity to take the conversation in a totally different direction.

Funny enough, a blogger friend of mine was recently surprised by a d*ckpick from a fellow blogger she had been DMing with for a long while.

Of course, after the shock wore off, she blocked him but not before sending him this GIF:

I fully understand that people are online for all sorts of different reasons and I’m not judging.

All I’m saying is that like most of us who are online, I’m here for the fun and friendly banter of it all, while trying to avoid the creepier stuff. That’s it, that’s all.

And even if you look like the spitting image of this draw-dropping specimen of a man below, I still wouldn’t want him to send me a d*ckpick…

Bisous,

M xoxo

“Two Can Play That Game” – The Beginning… Fiction Friday

A strong cup of hot black coffee was the only thing I wanted until I saw her.

Like everyone else standing in the queue, I needed my morning caffeine fix so I decided to stop at the first coffee shop on my way to the office.

For the first time that week, I was actually early for work. But that was only because Brittany had kept me up for most of the night and I had never really gone to bed. When I’d picked her up from the airport the night before, she had wanted to make up for lost time, lots of lost time. I was glad that I had no meetings that day because I knew that when the wave of tiredness eventually hit me, it would hit hard. Right then, all I wanted was to sit and enjoy my coffee in peace before starting my work day.

With my cup in hand, I scanned the coffee shop for an empty table but there were none to be found. If I really wanted to sit, I’d have to do it by joining someone at their table. I took a minute to assess my situation.

Two nerdy guys sitting in the far corner with their noses almost pressed against their laptop screens?

A gaggle of loud teenagers who looked too young to drink coffee?

No.

And no.

Three cute but young twenty-something women in a corner booth giggling and giving me the flirting eyes?

I smiled at them and they all smiled back.

Yes, sitting with them was the only way to go.

Until my eyes landed on her.

Sitting alone at a table for two, dressed in black yoga pants, wearing a bright mauve T-shirt with “Au Naturelle” printed on the front and a black hoodie, she stood out among the business attire and teenage trendy school wear.

Her dark curls were in a messy ponytail, a pair of glasses dangled dangerously from just above her forehead and she was sipping from a large mug as she flipped through a newspaper. The way she slowly took her time to peruse the page and the fact that she had a mug instead of a to-go cup meant that she wasn’t going anywhere in a hurry.

I watched as a smile spread across her face at whatever it was that she was reading. When she picked up her cell to check the time, she glanced around just enough for me to get a perfect view of her face.

I immediately wanted to know what shade of brown her eyes were and what I would need to do to kiss her.

As I passed my “threesome” with a nod of acknowledgement, I noticed their looks of disappointment.

But I was on a mission.

I walked up to her table and positioned myself in such a way for her to notice me. But when she didn’t, I had no choice but to break the ice.

“Hey! This place is pretty crowded. Would you mind if I sit with you?”

She graced me with the warmest of warm dark brown eyes and her smile could have lit up the entire coffee shop.

“Be my guest. But you might regret it…”

She motioned for me to sit and I promptly accepted.

“With a smile that beautiful smile, regret would be impossible.”

[Note: This is an excerpt of a much larger story to come – stay tuned)

©2016 Marquessa Matthews. All Rights Reserved.  Feel free to sign up for MAILING LIST


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Monday Musings: I’m Black…So What?

Since it’s still Black History Month, I was inspired to write today thinking back to what I said last week.

Being Black is only a small part of who I am.

I’m a woman.

I’m a Black woman.

I’m a Black woman of South American heritage.

I’m a Black woman of South American heritage in her forties. I’m a professional Black woman of South American heritage in her forties.

I’m a professional Black woman of South American heritage in her forties who writes and aspires to publish the kind of stories that I think are beautiful too

I’m all of the above and according to Chaka Khan, I’m every woman.

Naturally, some of my fiction writing is infused with my experiences as an individual who is all of the above and so much more.

But my writing is also not limited to the above.

As a storyteller, I write to themes anyone should be able to relate and though some of my main characters may not always resemble the ones that are still considered “more mainstream”, themes of love, fear, rejection and hate are universal.

My goal is and will always be about being “inclusive”.

If along the journey some readers don’t appreciate when I blog about issues of representation, diversity, and inclusion, I can’t do anything about it.

I’m just going to keep on walking and doing what I do.

“Chocolate High” – Fiction Friday

tiffany-n-light

 Photo credit: CEBImagery.com / Foter / CC BY-NC 

“Close your eyes and open your mouth…”

I did as I was told. I felt the warm gooeyness coat my lips, stick to the roof of my mouth and glide onto my tongue. My mouth widened to take it all in and I clasped my lips around it, wanting to savor it a little longer. Then I swallowed.

“It’s good, isn’t it?”

Yes, it was good. And yes, I definitely wanted more. I simply moaned with pleasure.

“Now, tell me it’s the best you’ve ever had.”

His tone dared me to say otherwise. I savored what was left in my mouth and then licked the residue from my lips. I opened my eyes and looked at him.

“Come on, say it.”

I giggled when I saw the serious look on his handsome face. I wasn’t a liar and I wasn’t about to start now.

“I’ll admit that it is very good. But I’ve had better. Sorry.”

“And here I am thinking that I would blow your mind.”

Disappointed, Alejandro placed the fork back onto the dessert plate. I immediately picked it up, dug into the chocolate molten lava cake and brought it to his lips.

“Butter, eggs, sugar, chocolate, fresh raspberries, powdered sugar…I used to be an expert at making these when I was a teenager. This is almost as good as what I used to make. Open your mouth.”

“Shush, don’t let the chef hear you.”

A smile spread across his face before he opened his mouth to receive the fork. We laughed and took turns feeding each other until the cake was a memory and we were suffering from a chocolate high. When I noticed chocolate on the corner of his mouth, I smudged it away with my thumb. Alejandro took hold of it and slowly slide it across his sticky lips. Before I knew it, my thumb was in his mouth and he was sucking the chocolate from it.

His eyes said it all, making me wonder just how sticky things could get in the middle of the empty restaurant.

I hope that you enjoyed this little story! 🙂

©2016 Marquessa Matthews. All Rights Reserved. Feel free to sign up for MAILING LIST.

 


 

 

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