#novemberwritingchallenge

[jasminesuntrell]

Day 6 - Write a fictional story about your favorite historical figure.

KANYE OMARI WEST IS AN ICON AND, THEREFORE, A HISTORICAL FIGURE. FIGHT ME.

Icon to Icon

The 25th of June, 2009. Something’s wrong. I hold my head. MJ’s gone! My nigga dead! Just began to accept losing my mama and now they laying my hero to rest?

WAKE UP MR. WEST

This gotta be a nightmare. Blink three times, but the words still there.

King of Pop is dead! Did music go with him? You see, if not for Michael Jackson Kanye West never happens.

They say legends never die but I see your family grieving. When you said, “This is it” I didn’t expect bereavement.

Now, they all crying two weeks ago they was reviling. Wacko Jacko but now they can’t let go.

Fake motherfuckers I no longer want this. Appreciate me while I’m here or don’t cry in my absence.

Sorry for the language, Mike. I’m just hurt. You gave us your life. You deserved more from us.

And though I wasn’t ready apparently the Lord was. I guess I’ll see you later in the Heaven built for icons.

[justmissjazz]

Same challenge exactly 4 years later...

Directions: This is a 30 day writing challenge that starts on November 1st. It’s the perfect time (in my opinion) to start gearing up for the New Year. The only requirement is that if you participate, you must post each day publicly (tumblr, wordpress, blogger, etc.) and use the hashtag #slaynewyork on your social media. The idea is to struggle visibly. This is not only to get you more comfortable with transparency but to also serve as an example (or reminder) of what it means to be human. We can’t grow together if we’re too busy hiding the growth we need to do separately. Check out the topic for each day in November below and don’t forget to tell a friend.

Nov. 1: Who are you?

Nov. 2: What areas of your personality, background, physical appearance are you struggling to accept?

Nov. 3: What are your dreams? How are you positioning yourself to make them become your reality?

Nov. 4: In a perfect world you would…?

Nov. 5: Write a good-bye letter to anything that has hurt you. Dig deep with this one.

Nov. 6: Think about your close circle. What does it say about you? What do you provide each other?

Nov. 7: What do you wish your parents would’ve done more of for you/with you growing up?

Nov. 8: What’s holding you back from living your best life right now?

Nov. 9: Write a love letter to yourself.

Nov. 10: What’s a body goal that you’d like to reach? Address it then make a plan to reach it and set a start date here.

Nov. 11: What did your first love teach you?

Nov. 12: One word: Trust. Write anything about it that you please.

Nov. 13: What are you most afraid of? Why?

Nov. 14: What has been your biggest adjustment from childhood to adulthood?

Nov. 15: How do you heal?

Nov. 16: What’s your purpose?

Nov. 17: How do you need to be loved?

Nov. 18: Write a letter to the person who has had the biggest impact on your life?

Nov. 19: What is the worst thing that has ever happened to you? How has it shaped you?

Nov. 20: Right now I am learning…?

Nov. 21: If the universe asked you “why should you be allowed to continue living” your response would be what?

Nov. 22: Think of the people who’ve made it possible for you to live in the world you live in today. In terms of the fight for equality and fairness, are you adding or taking away from that legacy? Expound.

Nov. 23: Are you a leader or a follower? What makes you either/or?

Nov. 24: What does your presence do to a room?

Nov. 25: What are you lacking?

Nov. 26: What are your strengths?

Nov. 27: What is killing me to keep around but I’m too comfortable with to let it go?

Nov. 28: What are you thankful for?

Nov. 29: Going into 2014 I will…?

Nov. 30: What have you learned from over the last 30 days?

[essenceofrickii]

Damaged

I spent the better half of my life attempting to forget it all.

Disremember.

Ignore.

Omit.

The wounds have since healed and scarred over

The tears have long dried and left their traces

But the pain has never gone away.

Have you've ever been ripped apart?

That's what it feels like when I try to remember those years I needed to forget.

It would have eaten me alive if I didn't.

That is the story of my childhood.

Year after year spent neglecting healing and moving forward.

That became my story.

I have grown up in pieces trying to become whole... because of a childhood I spent the better half of my life attempting to forget.

[kevlangel]

What has been your biggest adjustment from childhood to adulthood?

..making my own decisions and providing for myself. Learning to keep up with my priorities; bills, food, gas, keeping my space clean, being a good friend, remember wishing my parents happy birthday, picking the right mate, not getting an STD, being a great coworker, saving money and remembering to stay happy. 

[kimanilaurenbooks]

November Writing Challenge Day 10: Write About Something That Happened When You Were A Child

It was my first Dominican blowout, and the first time my mother let me wear my hair “out.” In my house, little girls did not wear their hair “out.” It was too “grown.” Little girls wore ponytails and braids. This was a big deal, because we were also going on our first cruise. Later I’d learn that I should have opted for braids, but the humidity of the islands was the last thing on my mind. This silky, shiny blowout on my thick hair was doing a thing that I liked. 

“You’re being really conceited right now,” my mother admonished as we walked into a meat market in Spanish Harlem. My mother hated women who thought highly of themselves. 

I tried to stifle the pep in my walk, but I was too excited about the week full of firsts. 

“My, she’s got some rich hair,” the butcher complimented me. 

Softly I thanked him. My mother tapped me to say it louder, and I did. 

“That hair is so so rich. Give me a little shake.” 

I didn’t move. It felt weird that this grown ass man wanted me, a little girl, to perform for him. It was just hair. My mother tapped me, so I shook my hair. He laughed and smiled. We went into the store. I frowned at seeing chicken feet for the first time. My mother wore a scowl on her face. 

“You think you’re so cute, don’t you? Shaking your head like that for that man.” She told everyone the story of how grown her daughter thought she was, shaking her head for some strange man and flirting. Inside I made myself shrink and kicked myself for not asking for braids. The man would not have asked me to shake braids, and my mother wouldn’t be so angry. 

We got onto the boat, and more men complimented me on my rich hair. I loved my long, thick, jet black hair, but it was becoming too much. My mother snarled at me every time a grown man said something about my hair. Pretty soon I retreated to my cabin. I didn’t want to make her angry on our trip. Grown men made comments about the way that I walked, and my mother admonished me for sashaying in front of those men. 

When I could no longer stand being in the cabin, we docked in the Bahamas. I got on a boat to take me to the island. I loved the beach and couldn’t wait to sink my toes into white sand and seashells. The man driving the boat did not compliment me on my rich hair. I thought I was finally safe, but he leaned forward and whispered to me, “I’m going to keep you here with me to be mine.” My skin crawled, and immediately I jumped back, bumping into people. I thought one of them would catch me, save me. Somebody must have heard what he said to me. 

“Stop being so dramatic. Just accept the compliment,” my mother hissed. “There’s no reason for you to make him feel like that. He was obviously joking, and you crushed his ego. Now look at how uncomfortable you’ve made this ride for everyone.” 

After that week, I promised myself that once I was away from my mother that I would never care about a man’s comfort. I’d never wait for a man to tell me I was pretty, and I would never perform pretty for a man. Twenty years later, I’d get my test. A man would offer to send me a picture of his penis, and I’d laugh about it and politely decline just to assuage the preposterous notion. I’d ask him what I said that made him think I wanted that from him. Somehow I’d blame myself for not shrinking myself so that this man wouldn’t notice me. 

I failed you, young me. I’m sorry. 

[jasminesuntrell]

Day 2 - An unexpected event.

I Didn’t Order That

Number one, spicy extra pickles to the side add bacon and pepperjack, please. Hi-C, lite ice Yes. Polynesian sauce. Thank you.

I refused to wait while he slowly placed his order. I scurried over to the booth I like in the back, near the play center and I waited impatiently for my chicken sandwich and waffle fries. THIS is my cheat meal and I deserve!

I watch him move with the urgency of a snail as he brings me my food. Anticipation of the grease, the spices, the sweet, diabetic inducing stickiness of the racistly named, "Polynesian" sauce and my extra pickles… I can't survive without my extra pickles.

You would think I would take my time- enjoy every morsel for who knows when the next time I will have something not whole in grain or vegetable but I shove larges pieces past my fat lips and the Polynesian sauce has dripped down my chin all over my bosom but I don't care about this shirt anyway. The only thing I care about right now is stealing the rest of his waffle fries because mine are all gone.

He stops my hand mid-reach- "I have a surprise for you." "Close your eyes." He hands me a bag of the gooey, warm, chocolate chip cookies I love! I tear open the bag and a band of rose gold adorned with a beautiful pearl with 1/2 carat of diamond on each side falls out. And confetti.

There are no cookies at all.

He gives me a goofy smile and awkwardly drops to one knee. "So what do you say?" I say… "Where the fuck are my cookies?"

[jasminesuntrell]

Day 13 - Write a romantic story.

Birthday Present

I've unwrapped heartache ripped open disappointment and shaken betrayal from the bottom of a gift bag.

Every year birthdays come and go and my wish is the same, Happiness.

But I never seem to be able to taste it between the layers of my cake.

You make me happy though. I want you standing at my door wearing a bow and the lustrous smile that first enthralled me in May.

You're the first man to tell me that I am fine and be talking about my soul, not the fullness of my breast and shape of my derriere.

I know you're not supposed to say what you wish for when you blow out the candles on your birthday cake but I'm going to be wishing for you.

When I close my eyes and pucker my lips I'm going to see your lips coming to greet mine.

Because that's all I want this year and every year after. Happiness.

[jasminesuntrell]

Day 9 & Still Behind - Write a road trip story.

Mine & His Alone

The last time I made my way to California, it was for a man and I promised myself then that I would never let a man have me that drove ever ever again.

That was approximately 11 years ago so I guess you can say, I did good. Credit delinquencies only last 7 years. Looking at it from that angle, I’ve long since wiped my mind of just how delinquent a man is liable to be with a woman in love with him.

This is what I’m thinking as I enter Indiana. About how Google says it’s going to take 41 hours to get to Fresno from Maryland and so far I’ve only stopped for gas. My stomach is uneasy but I ignore it and it snarls back at me. Growl and grumble all you want. I’m not stopping for food.

I probably should have taken a plane and saved myself 30+ hours but I’m here now. At this point, I’ve made it to Texas. Not even sure what time zone I’m in.

In fact, Me and him are the only thing I am sure of but one of us had to make the jump so I said fuck it- no parachute. I’m Gladys Knight without The Pips because no one is cheering me on about taking this long ass ride to Fresno. But I’d rather live in his world than live without him in mine.

So, I’m going. I’d run if I could. This ain’t about proving my love or trying to force him to love me. We know here we stand. I’m a part of him and he me. We’re blood; family. There is no home for him that don’t include me.

I know we can survive the distance but there’s no good reason we should have to try. And while I wish he would have picked somewhere a lot more appealing and convenient than fucking Fresno California. If his dreams brought him here then so have mine.

I’m in Arizona, now. About 10 more hours until I can kiss the lips I’ve been missing; stare into the face I fell in love with. I swear the closer I get, the stronger I smell him. It’s been nearly six months since I could be with my safe place. It took about six months to realize some shit, you just can’t shake.

So, you damn right. I hopped in a car and decided to follow my heart which, for now, is in Fresno, CA. Where I’ll stay until my heart leads me elsewhere or my heart goes on without me.