*Sneak Peek* A Chapter from Untraditional II

Yes, it’s almost time. Untraditional II is heading into the editing phase and I wanted to share an unedited (give me grace please) story from my next baby. Enjoy the first 1K words and if you want the full chapter, just join my Patreon family at the Passionate Fan tier.

With passion, DNC


***For Mature Audiences Only – Over 18***

Voyeurism /vwä-ˈyər-ˌi-zəm/[1]

noun:the practice of obtaining sexual gratification from observing others.

Look at Me

            “Fuck this job!” I yell to Romi through the phone.

            “Girl stop! That job pays for that dope and expensive ass condo you live in.” She’s right. I close the door and place my keys on the entry table. I kick off my tan strappy Valentinos and head down the hall toward the kitchen.

            “You’re right, sis. You know I don’t mean it.” We laugh as I sit my purse on the bar.

            “I just wish they didn’t make we work so long each day. I mean over four hours is just too much.”

            “Who are you telling? Girl they had the nerve to have a deposition meeting at 8 a.m. today.”

            “On a Friday?”

            “On a Friday! Girl that’s not allowed on any damn day.”

            I nod, knowing for damn well that I would have shut that down as soon as I saw it come across my calendar.

            The faint scent of lavender and vanilla sweep across my nose.

            “Yay, Clint got a bath today.” I turn and walk into my room.

            “Tell Clint I said hi.”

            I follow the smell through the condo into my bathroom where my Yorkie eagerly waits for me.

            “Hiring Melanie was such a great idea!”

            “You’re welcome. I’ll send the bill at the end of the month for my consulting services.” Romi confirms. “She’s the best dog sitter I’ve ever had.”

            I can’t agree more. She’s worth the entire one-hundred and fifty dollars I was paying her monthly. Originally, I thought it was a horrible idea. How could I dare ask someone to break up their busy day to walk my dog since I was too damn busy? But, apparently there are people in this world who love to do such a thing. Thank God for Melanie the Yorkie whisperer. She came to my rescue right on time. If I didn’t find her, I would have paid a ton more to send my baby to daycare.

            “Okay, I’ll give you that.” I admit. “Plus, she lives in the building so it doesn’t feel like it’s as much of a hassle as it could be.”

            “Yep. But enough about that dog. Let me tell you about that hoe ass Tony and who’s he dating now.” Her voice shoots up three octaves.

            “I thought you were over him, Romi?” An understatement to what she swore to me. It was something like, “This is the last time I would ever speak of such an irresponsible, punk ass, fuck boy,” or however she phrased it.

            We both knew the truth as soon as those words flew out of her lips. Tony was her too-busy-to-date-but-always-ready-to-fuck guy. Ex? Lover? Boo? Shit, I don’t know what to call him.

            “Girl I’m always over him but he was just over her last night and then I see a pic with him and Jerreka.”

            I let her vent as I finally get comfortable in my own home. It’s been a long week and all I want to do is pour a velvety glass of Merlot and catch up on my favorite horror mystery on Netflix.

            “Get down Clint,” I whisper to my baby, hoping not to interrupt her, but it doesn’t work.

            “Girl every time you call that dog’s name I hear ‘Clit. Get down Clit.’”

            “Bitch, stop hating on my dog.” I roll my eyes, hoping she can feel my annoyance through the phone, then I flop down on my bed and unsnap my bra releasing my exhausted breast.s Men made bras and I don’t know why I keep letting them hinder me. Oh yeah, I would scare a child or two with my triple Ds. Or at least I would get all the men fired at my jobs for not being able to be productive.

            That’s a thought.

            It would definitely make my plight to CEO easier. I want to pass the idea to Romi, but she’s back on her old ass topic, rumbling on about how that “tramp ain’t shit” and how he “should be getting his life right” with her.

            I stand up and pull my skirt over my thighs, trying to catch it before it hits floor so I can kit it toward my laundry basket.

            “Shit.” I blurt out.

            “What,” she pauses for a moment, then rapid fires several more “what’s going on” through the phone.

            “Nothing, I just forgot to close my blinds.”

            I can feel her shaking her head at me through the phone. She keeps the conversation going, elaborating more on Tony’s horrible hoeing charades.

            I walk over to the window and pick the remote up on the sill. No matter how convenient remote controlled blinds were, I always found a way to still have to walk over to them.

            I pick up the remote and point it, but freeze immediately when I notice the man sitting on his balcony right across from me. At first, I think my eyes are playing a trick on me then I realize that I’m seeing what I’m seeing; that Man is watching me.

            I quickly close the blinds then lean on the wall next to the window. My heart speeds in my chest and I watch my breast jump from the excitement. But shouldn’t it be anger?

            “Are you okay?” Romi asks.

            “Yeah, I mean I guess so. Why?”

            “Ah, I can hear you huffin’ and puffin’ like the big bad wolf?”

            I didn’t notice. I take a deep inhale and let it go.      

            “What happened bitch?”

            Part of me wants to lie since I know how she will respond but I can’t. The truth leaps over my lips.

            “A man was watching me.”

            She coughs and then chuckles. “A man or the Man?” Again, I want to play an idiot, but I’m way too much of a genus for that shit.

            “It might have been ‘the Man’.”

            The Man we’re referencing is not just some meager soul. We mean the gorgeous, vanilla dipped Nigerian gentleman who smokes cigars on his balcony every Wednesday and Friday. The man whose silky green eyes pause my thoughts every time I gaze into them. Sometimes I’m embarrassed by my response and other days I’m mad that he’s staring, but no matter the moment, his eyes always make me sway my hips a little slower and push my breasts out a little further.

            Whether it was ego or arousal, who was he to pull any unassisted reaction out of me. It’s been a long time since someone has pulled anything like that out of me, metaphorically or physically.

            What is it about him?

            I can’t help but peek through my blinds to see if he’s still there, and of course he is.

The stogie dimly lights up his balcony and I can see the plaid pattern on his flannel pants. His shirtless chest isn’t as easily visible so I move from my bedroom to the living room window, hoping to confirm or deny my suspension of a perfectly chiseled torso. One that could have been carved by the incredible Richmond Barthe’. No detail was spared. I look over the deep indent that separates each pectoral muscle, flowing down to those hard abs. His tattoo-less chest makes it easier to see the sun kissing his skin.

            I’ve been in this condo for almost three years now and yet I still can’t handle his stare, even though I enjoy it.

            I’ve spoken to him before even when we bumped into each other at the grocery store. He said, “Hello,” I turned once I realized who he was and pretty much moonwalked all the way back of the store’s seafood aisle.

            Sure, I felt like a punk for doing it but how do I address a peeping tom? Maybe something like, “I saw you watching me and I ain’t like it.” Or do I go for truth like, “You live by me and I’ve seen you looking through my blinds. Do you like what you see?” Either approach felt like a stupid one so for weeks, months and now years, I’ve ran from him.

            That night, I dreamt about him. I imagined seeing his lips only inches away from mine. I imagine what glory lives under those pants and how strong it could feel inside of me. It almost feels like madness—hell I’m too scared to hold a conversation but I can dream about him knocking down my walls. Crazy as hell. [Read the full chapter on Patreon – Choose Passionate Fan tier]


[1] Definition from Merriam-Webster: https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/voyeurism

Writing and Such: When to Quit

I kid you not Chronicle family, I’ve been working on the follow up to Office Extravaganza for over three months, and I’m over it! I know some of you are probably like, “But it has only been three months. It takes some people years to right a novel.” And you’re right. A novel, which is usually over 40,000 words depending on your genre, can take years to write. 

However, I’m only writing a novelette, 20,000 words or less, and it’s taking FOREVER!

Has Quitting Season Started?

So, I’ve asked myself, “Self, is it finally time to quit?”

It’s like every day I tell myself that I have to finish today. Ideas keep coming and I jot them down but then stop because I freeze up. The words that follow that initial burst of creativity don’t feel or look right on my screen. They don’t give me that electricity like the others did. Then, I switch directions and tell myself, “Just give yourself one more day and it’ll be done.” Now imagine doing this same routine day after day, week after week, and now month after month. 

I promise I’m not bored with the storyline, or characters or subthemes. It’s like I can’t get it all the way out of me. I went to the beach, my favorite writing place, and came up with some amazing ideas for my business but then the story just stalled again.

Okaloosa Beach, Miramar Beach

What’s in between writer’s block and master-classing manuscripts? That’s right, me. *Slaps forehead and falls back on the couch*

Follow the “Rules” or Make Them Up

I’ve been told and researched that if you’re stuck on a story you should stop writing it. Move to a different storyline and if the story is worth writing, it’ll come back around, I guess like a Frisbee. Or maybe it’s more like a bad relationship that comes back around good. Either way I digress.

Then I feel like, “Yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever. But, I don’t want to!” *Stomps away, like a six-year-old throwing a tantrum*

Honestly, my opinion for when you’re supposed to quit at anything, even writing, is only when you don’t love what you’re doing anymore and I’m still in love with this story. I’m giving myself one last week to finish this first draft. I’ll come back next week and let you know how it goes, promise. In the meantime, check out my new bookstore and share what you’re working on too. Have you had some writing woes recently?

With passion,

DNC

https://books-by-dnc.square.site/product/passionate-af-mugs/14?cs=true

Writing Relections: Time and Space Wanted

Sitting out on my deck, smelling the drying rain and smoking this hookah, I decided to check in with my Chronicles people.

I know it’s been a moment but that’s because finding a moment isn’t the easiest right now. I’ve been squeezing in a sentence or two here and there in my next book, the prequel to Office Extravaganza, but outside of that it’s been tough to do extra writing.

I’m doing my best to balance a full time job with a passion, but add in taking care of my youngest during this crazy ass quarantine and both time and space disappear.

It’s a good thing that I recorded several podcasts for my Patreon family but I’ll do better on this blog.

How are y’all hanging in there? Writers do you find yourself having more time or less to write? Readers the same. Have you smashed more books or less?

Mic check everyone. Hopefully I’m not the only one struggling with words but they are in my head I promise and I’ll keep dropping them because I would love to get this out to you all before labor day or soon after.

With passion, DNC

Books for sale by DNC

NaNoWriMo is here! You ready or Nah?

It’s that time of the year when we writers decide to isolate ourselves from the world to get as many words, stories, outlines, edits and thoughts out in the name of NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) – like we really need another excuse to get lost in our word counts.

Since I learned that November was the designated month for such an audacious yet exciting event, I’ve tried to join in on the festivities and this year is no different.

With the a plan to knock out my 2020 self-pub piece, I’ve identified all the weapons (or tools for you non-warriors), tricks and hints that I could find starting with my own version of Popeye’s spinach – wine!

On my YouTube channel (say what, you haven’t subscribed…what are you waiting on?), I take you through my thoughts on my first wine subscription that started with a simple wine tasting.

While you’re there on my channel–after you subscribe–make sure to check out my NaNoWriMo playlist to find other tips and hints to surviving and smashing your goals throughout the entire month of November. I’ll continue to do videos thought the month to share my own progess too.

Got some tips of your own? Share away folks. Drop your tips in the comments below so we can all do this right. It’s a writing community thang so let help each other out.

Every Writing Journey is Different…No For Real!

If there is one lesson that I’ve learned throughout my 35 years on this Earth is that no footstep is the same. Sure our paths may seem similar, we’ve both turned a left or two, but the reality of it all is that they will end in separate places at different times.

When I first started writing, it was for relief. With all the temptation around me at school and the love I had for my boyfriend, and now husband, with me every waking moment, I had to find a way to release some lustful desires in a healthy way, so I started writing. I wrote freaky tales and shared it with my friends, which did something powerful for me that I reflect on today–I connected women on a level I didn’t know I could through erotic words.

Then when my mother passed in December of 2006, my best friend showed me that writing was also a way to cope with pain and loss. I really let all the painful words that were being held back by my tears out of my system into poetry and journaling. Writing has not only helped with my sanity and recovery but it’s taught me more about myself that I thought it could. I mean, a totally different emotional level.

So did I know that I would be pursuing a writing career when I was in college. No. Elementary, well yeah. I’ve dreamt about telling the stories that were in my head since I was young but I only thought it was a dream, until now.

And it’s not until now, or should I say the past year, that I’ve realized that becoming a full-time author may look totally different for me than anyone else, so I’ve got to do what I’ve got to do.

So I’m taking the next big, and what was one of the scariest steps thus far, which was why I decided to take my talents to Patreon–a platform build to help creatives survive why continually sharing our work.

So, why Patreon? Three reasons:

  1. Supplemental-ish Income: This platform allows a creative like me to make an income by supplying a product on a regular basis. As an early published author who only has two books out, it helps to supplement my income to help cover costs like editors, cover designers, software, supplies and all the other stuff that comes up in between (travel costs to conferences and marketing materials).
  2. Storytelling on a monthly basis: I love writing. Did you know that? It’s so true that on this platform I get to write short stories and upcoming chapters for you all to review and give feedback on. Oh, and depending on what tier you subscribe to you will get multiple stories a month, free stuff and so much more.
  3. Connecting with you on a personal: It’s hard to be real on so many channels, and to be honest I can’t be for “commercial” reasons, but on Patreon I plan to be the best and honest me I can be because everyone who supports this dream desires nothing less. And don’t think I’ve forgotten about those of you have bought my book and who have already subscribed to this blog. I’m keeping you in the loop on some of the goodies, but honestly, if you want the gems…you know where to go and what to do!

My path will be different but it will happen because I know it’s for me. If your struggling to live your purpose, I challenge you to take a leap of faith. Trust that the path is already there and all you have to do is take the next step, even if you can see it clearly. What you feel, is what is for you.

Join DNC on Patreon.

With passion

DNC