Rainbow Book Reviews

cropped-cropped-her-name-cover.jpg

Thank you, Rainbow Book Reviews, for a wonderful review of my book. I appreciate you having me on your site, as well as for the kind words.

The review below was written by JJ.

Thank you, JJ.

–This is a remarkably imaginative story. I was so touched that I more than found myself laughing with the main character, crying with her, obfuscating with her, and trying to make sense of the phenomenal gift she is given even though it came with as many pains as amazing highs. I was so moved by her dreams…their possible meaning and their potential insights stay with me till this moment. This book is full of passion and love. Plus, I felt myself filled with powerful feelings penetrating my soul. Outstanding!

Madison or Maddy is not in a really good space. She is fast racing towards her fortieth birthday and her life has not gone the way she wanted. She has not met the woman she could love for forever and be loved in return. Her mother passed away recently, her father is devastated, her sister and brother seem to be where they hoped to be. However, Maddy has this job that is a bit of a grind, friends and temporary lovers who possibly should be committed, and a growing fear that life is passing her by. Then she starts having these continuing, greater than life dreams on a nightly basis where all her hopes and desires seem to be actually happening. No one wants to hear Maddy expound on these dreams anymore, her family and closest friend thinks she needs therapeutic help, and she is simply caught in between. However for Maddy, there is unquestionably something very real going on in this astonishing, episodic piece of paradise. Enchanting!

Maddie does not get to know the name of the woman in her dreams till near the end of this story in a core-piercing, breath-losing, and time-halting kind of way. Yet, this woman is clearly the other most important person in this novella. In the beginning there are snippets. Later on, there is a rather long and cathartic path to the big truth about the origin of the dreams. It was intensely illuminating. Maddy gets to see with such clarity how a hypothetically much bigger life story unfolds possibly simultaneously with the life she actually walks through each day, each year. To my surprise, this part of the story totally stopped me in my tracks. Jaw-dropping, eye-popping, heart melting I simply cried an ocean of tears and had my heart burst wide open with joy. Phew! However, I felt that both stories had actually unfolded and blossomed around Maddie as her eternal love lit up the universe. After my initial and cathartically tearful reaction, I felt born again with a sense of the larger picture. Astounding!

I completely recommend this with the proviso that you might shed some tears from joy, from loss, or from bewilderment. Ever since I was introduced to the possibility of alternative worlds, I have tried to be open to such beautiful stories. This one is presented with such darn good insight into such an extraordinary though sometimes difficult to imagine potential. Supremely satisfying! –

If your curiosity has been piqued, you can purchase my book at http://www.amazon.com/

It is only $2.99!

Thank you!

Also, if you’d like to read more reviews of your favorite gay and lesbian books, please visit http://www.rainbowbookreviews.com

hername-300dpi

Advertisement

Please Don’t Steal My Book

The first time I saw my book illegally downloaded on the Internet I wanted to cry – but not before punching in the face those six hundred-plus people who stole my book. Yes, stole. They didn’t pay for it, so it’s stealing. I had a discussion today with my sister about this issue. She knows a person who sells pirated-DVD copies of movies – new movies – movies less than a week in the theater new. She makes six hundred dollars cash a week. That didn’t sit well with me.

I told my sister this person was making money off someone else’s hard work. A writer’s words. A director’s vision. An actor’s passion. A costume designer’s sore, over-pricked fingers.

“She’s s single mom,” my sister responded. “Maybe I’d do that too if I needed the money. Would you rather have me work as a stripper and give lap dances?”

Please get over yourself, sister. You don’t have the boobs to be a stripper, but if you did, then yes. Yes, I’d rather you be a stripper giving lonely guys lap dances in dark rooms because at least that’s your hard work you’d be getting paid for. I had to explain it to my sister the way I explained it to my ten-year old niece that buying pirated movies is the same as walking into a store and shoving a DVD under your shirt and leaving.

“But we’re paying for it,” my niece said to me.

“Yes, but to people who stole it,” I responded.

The digital world has made books, movies, and music so conveniently available to us (on our phones, our computers, our Ipads) that it gives the delusion that we own the product before we even buy the product.

I know this didn’t just begin with my book. This type of theft has been going on for a long time. I remember Napster, but I never downloaded music I didn’t pay for, and that goes for books as well.

Authors don’t get paid much, especially authors of e-books that sell for three dollars. The price of a coffee. The price of my book. I didn’t become an author for the money because I knew long before the digital world came around that the writing business was tough. Not many people can make a living doing it, and those who do are probably not living the high-life, but merely scraping by (unless your last name is King, Grisham, Patterson, or Rowling).

Since I’m not here for the money, I admit, I got a little excited when I saw that over six-hundred people had downloaded my book. The prospect of over six-hundred people reading my book was thrilling, thieves and all. Recently, I’d been notified by my publisher about another piracy site. I checked it out and found that my book hadn’t been downloaded at all – not even once. I was relieved, but then quickly thought, “What the ^uck? People don’t even want to read my book for free?”

As a writer I think I’ll always be stoked when people read my work, but is it too much to ask them to pay for it, too?

ID-100222024

Photo courtesy of freedigitalphotos.net

“Her Name” by Alicia Joseph

I’d like to share an excerpt of my lesbian romance novella, Her Name.

Her Name
Her Name

I was on my knees washing the floor when I heard her call out my name. I immediately stopped. This wasn’t just a holler for more pillows or another blanket. This was an urgent “I need you!” scream.

I ran to our room. I found her in our bathroom, sitting on the toilet, hunched over with her arms pressed against her stomach. Blood trailed over the edge of the seat. I couldn’t move. With a scared expression on her face, she whispered, “The baby.”

I hurried to her and wrapped her head in my arms. The toilet was filled with blood, and when I moved to flush it, she stopped me.

“Don’t! Not yet.”

I fell to my knees and cried beside her. She gripped my hand tightly. It was hard to comprehend what had just happened. Even as I had washed the toilet, evidence to what had been so brutally taken from us was right in my face, yet, I couldn’t believe it. It happened so quickly. Everything changed in less than two minutes.

She was lying in bed when I got off the phone with the doctor. She needed to rest, and we were to see him early the following week. I walked into the dimly lit room, carrying a washcloth in my hand, and pulled back the covers. I held her shaking body in my arms.

Her cries were violent. I wanted her to stop, but knew she couldn’t. I knew there wasn’t anything I could say to ease the agony of having a life die inside you, but I wanted to take that pain from her and wear it like a tattoo across my heart. I’d bear all the suffering so she wouldn’t have to, but no matter how badly I wanted to, I couldn’t take it away. She held her sorrow too close to her.

“I let my baby die!” she screamed.

“No, you didn’t. Don’t say that. Don’t ever say that,” I said and kissed the side of her face. “There was nothing you could do. Please believe that,” I begged.

She didn’t say anything, and I stopped talking, knowing she wouldn’t hear anything over her bawling. I held her tightly for as long as she needed me to. Her deep sobs slowed to a quiet whimper. Her body finally found some peace as she fell asleep under the protective covers of our bed. I lay beside her, holding a cool wet washcloth across her forehead.

Alicia Joseph

Please check out my Author Facebook Page at https://www.facebook.com/pages/Alicia-Joseph/1444411879162094?ref=hl

http://www.amazon.com/Her-Name-Alicia-Joseph-ebook/dp/B00LPIAGB4

You can also connect with me on Twitter @JosephJody76

My Interview with Ashley Ladd.

Today I am featured on author Ashley Ladd’s blog “Happily Ever After.” Please check out the link below where I talk about my new lesbian romance novella, Her Name. Thank you!

http://ashleyladd.blogspot.com/

hername-300dpi

Inked Rainbow Reads

Please check out my interview at Ink Rainbow Reads. They were very gracious with their reviews, and they asked some excellent questions, too. Please check it out at the link below.

And thank you, Inked Rainbow Reads, for having me.

http://inkedrainbowreads.wordpress.com/2014/09/16/5-stars-for-her-name-by-alicia-joseph-ff-mustread-amazing/

hername-300dpi

Just Another Day of Not Writing

I am a writer. I write. Unless I can think of nothing to write. Then I don’t know what I am. I suppose I’m still all the same things I am while I write, when I’m not writing. I’m a daughter, an aunt, a sister, a friend…a basically good decent human being, thank you very much.

Except when I can’t write, I feel like I’m nothing. That’s a terrible feeling. I may still be all those other things, but when I’m not writing, I’m not a writer.

I know how I’m supposed to present this to myself, as well as to others when they ask, Hey Alicia, how’s the writing going?

I don’t say  – It sucks. I @#%^$#% hate writing. I slammed my hand against the wall three times yesterday. My head soon followed. 

Instead, I slouch my shoulders. Apologetic soft grin and utter the words – Writer’s block.

Encouraging smiles all around. Arm pats. Don’t worry, it’ll come back….Write through it…You did it once, you can do it again…Is there anything we can do? 

Yes, feel sorry for me. Feel sorry that I can’t do my job. I’ll remember to feel sorry for the paramedic who forgets how to perform CPR – I’m sorry he’s gone. But I was blocked……..It’s okay. We didn’t like him much anyway. 

I hate the words “writer’s block” and whenever I use it, I verbally abuse myself later. I hate it because it lets me off the hook. It excuses my failure to meet that day’s deadline – one page, two pages, five hundred words – as though it were out of my hands. Does God control writer’s block? No? I didn’t think so. So the ability still must be within me and yet…

We (me) use writer’s block as an explanation because it is prettier than images of punching and slamming walls, or throwing objects. There’s something quaint and self-suffering, very ‘Hemingway-esque,’ about the term “Writer’s block.” Wikipedia defines it as “a condition…in which an author loses the ability to produce new work.”

You see…I’m not really bad at what I do. I have a “condition.” I’m excused. I suffer from a “documented” problem that has affected all the best writers – including Hemingway.

The fact is – I need to be inspired. I am a writer who needs to be inspired to write. There are writers who wake up and write. They have a schedule and they stick to it. They don’t have to take walks. Observe Nature. Hear children’s laughter. Or listen to inspiring movie scores on YouTube.

They just write. They Sit. In silence. And write.

Something pops into their heads and they may not know it as they write (or maybe they do b/c they’re just that good) but their ideas will lead to something – a new character a reader will fall in love with, or a surprising twist the reader will never see coming until the words spill from their lips across the pages.

But I need the music. I need the feeling. I need the inspiration. Joe Pesci sits across from me, scowling at me. “I’m a clown? I amuse you? I make you laugh? I’m here to…amuse you?”

Yes, Joe, you are. Amuse me. Inspire me. Do something. Please.

IMG_20140717_161730                                                             IMG_20140717_161817

Queer Town Abbey’s “Equal Rights Blog Hop”

Thank you Queer Town Abbey for hosting this blog hop with the theme “My first experience in the LGBT community.”

blog_hop_button  The Equal Rights Blog Hop July 4th through 11th blog hop button

I came out when I was twenty. I told most of my family and friends I was gay before I had even held another girl’s hand. I was that sure of who I was and desperately needed to be around people like me.

One Thursday night, I drove to a lesbian bar near my house. With a nervous twist in my stomach, I pulled into the parking lot. I sat in my car – hesitant and having second thoughts. I gave myself a pep talk. “Come on Alicia, it’s just a bar!” and “These are your people!”

After a few more minutes of hemming and hawing, I yelled out, “It’s Thursday night for Christ sakes!” I opened my car door and with a confidence that screamed “I’m not afraid of Thursday nights!” I swayed toward the entrance.

It wasn’t until I reached the doors and pulled my wallet from my pocket that I remembered I was using a fake ID. I’d always get uneasy when using it at new places. My sister and I didn’t look that much alike. But I had other things to be anxious about and with a forced nonchalant smile and a heavy heartbeat, I handed over my ID.

Seconds later, I was welcomed into my first gay bar.

I stepped into the dark place that looked just like any other bar I’d been to. Small groups of women were either hovered over pool tables or chatting loudly on stools, while a scattered few danced across the near-empty dance floor.

The bar wasn’t crowded, but that was my plan. I was baby-stepping my way into the gay community. I took a seat and immediately pulled out my pack of smokes and dropped it in front of me. I have long since quit, but back then I needed my cigarettes. It gave me something to do with my hands and allowed me to concentrate on something other than myself.

The bartender came over. I had no way of knowing that she would come to make many drinks for me and had a keen way of pin-pointing when I was in the mood for a beer or for my favorite mixed drink. But she didn’t know me then, so I had to tell her.

Soon, a transvestite named Michelle sat beside me. Aside from the bartender, she was the first person to talk to me. She was very friendly and immediately put me at ease. I’ll never forget her for that.

But as she talked about her girlfriend, I realized I had a lot to learn about the community I was starting to call my own. I had assumed that men who dressed as women were attracted to other men. I hung on her every word as she told to me about her and her girlfriend’s recent fights.

I was introduced to something foreign to me and my “suburban” way of living. But there was no doubt I was exactly where I was supposed to be.

I took a chance that night and it paid off. I would come to make many memories in that bar that I still hold close to me today. Not too long ago, I’d taken another chance, but time has yet to show if it will pay off. But whether or not good memories come from what I’d done, I don’t ever want to stop taking chances.

Whatever the uncertainty in your life, are you willing to take a chance?

 

To enter the Giveaway please answer this simple question from post:

“What day of the week did I go to my first gay bar?”

Please post the answer in the Rafflecopter widget for the opportunity to win one of the grand prizes.

http://queertownabbey.com/the-equal-rights-blog-hop-july-4th-through-11th/

 

Thanks again Queer Town Abbey for hosting this blog hop! Please follow the hop at queertownabbey.com for a chance to win prizes! And please leave a comment on my blog for a chance to win an ebook copy of my lesbian romance novella, Her Name, coming out July 11.

Her Name

 

Please visit other authors participating in this blog hop!

My “Is It Summer Yet?” Blog

Queer Town Abbey Invites You

to Get a Jump on the Season

As a kid,  summer was what I waited for, longed for. The anticipation was as exciting as waking up on a Saturday morning, and tossing the covers to the side as I hurried to watch my favorite cartoons (because that was the only time cartoons were on. We didn’t have 175 channels for kids back then).

I counted the days until the last day of school and as soon as it became warm enough to open the windows in class, only my body remained in session because my mind completely checked out.   I’d daydream about all the adventures (trouble) I’d get into and with the help of a great childhood best friend, we did just that.

Everyday we’d go to the Park District pool, get kicked out of the Park District pool, sneak into places we never should have been, and ride our bikes around town while searching for new places to make into our “hideout” that only we knew about. We enjoyed a freedom that most kids don’t get to experience today because we didn’t have cellphones that would allow us to be tracked down by our parents at any given moment. If they needed us, they had to wait until we got home (and I always made it a point to ignore when the streetlights came on because I hated that rule).

Now, my side-kick is gone – married with kids – but I still count down the days for school to be out, but not for me, for my kiddies, because they are the ones I now take with me on my adventures. They are my “side-kicks” now and our “adventures” usually take us to the South Side – to Sox Park – for a Sox game.

But we don’t just “go” to Sox games. We “travel” there. I have a Sox  CD burned with songs that can only be listened to while driving to a Sox game and it is put on at a specific point in our destination because a certain song must be playing the second the stadium comes to view. It’s a beautiful moment.

We also don’t just “attend” a game. We “experience” it. There are food items I am only allowed to eat when I am with my nephew because we tasted it the first time together and it has become our tradition to eat it together. Seriously, on the way to the game he’ll ask me what inning we should eat our favorite food. If I dare attend a game without them (and believe me, this instance is treated like a treacherous scandal) I am questioned later if I ate said food. “No, I did not,” I’d always respond. (Okay, one time I did but I am gluten-free and therefore am VERY limited in my options at the ballpark, so I need some slack).

My favorite summer memories revolve around baseball, but for far more reasons than just the sport of it. It’s sentimental to me. I hold close to me very fond memories of watching games with my father, who passed away 18 years ago. It’s how I became a fan in the first place.

One day a little girl walked into her living room and her father was sitting on the couch with a game on.  She sat beside him and watched the first of what would become many, many games with him. Yet still, I wish there were could have been more.

I know my nephews will hold close these memories and look back fondly at them in years to come. Whenever they see an old lady at a game they point out that that will be me someday and they will be the ones taking me to the games. I laugh because although I am in no hurry to get old and gray, my boys have left me with something to look forward to.

I’ve realized that no matter how bright the sun may be on the most gorgeous of summer days, it always shines a little brighter when you’re sharing it with someone you love.

 

IMG_20140413_123426IMG_20130721_155436

 

 

Queer Town Abbey Invites You

to Get a Jump on the Season
with
Queer Town Abbey,
Musa Publishing, 
and dozens of your favorite authors
for the
Is It Summer Yet? Blog Hop
 
Celebrating My Best Summer Memory
 
Grand Prizes are:
 
iPod shuffle
 
Queer as Folk Box, 
Music from the ShowTime original series Seasons 3,4,and 5
donated by Tommy Boy Entertainment
 
PLUS
11 other great prizes


To enter click Queer Town Abbey Blog Hop 
and share your best summer memory