“Nine thousand!” Pari had cried when Tanner gave her the news about finishing off her education. “Dollars?”
Pari felt terrible for her friend and couldn’t believe nine thousand was keeping her from getting her degree. Nine thousand needed by tomorrow afternoon. Pari was barely making ends meet, and Tanner was so caught up with two internships, working a steady job, going to school to keep her 4.0 G.P.A., and paying bills that were not hers accrued by her now dead crack-addicted mother. Even the little hustle Tanner opted to do every once in a while for the pimp, Donetello, didn’t really make ends meet around Tanner’s life with the cost of school, books and payments she needed to make on everything else.
The pounding on the door in the middle of the night made Pari sprint from her bed barely dressed without checking to see who it was. Her room was closest to the front of their upper two-family apartment on the Westside of Detroit. Sadly, she was use to these knocks in the middle of the night.
“Get out of the fucking way!” a deep voice boomed as he helped someone smaller into the room.
“Lay her on the couch!” Pari ordered and then ran to the back of the flat to knock on her roommate’s door.
“Tanner!Tanner! You got a client.”
Several locks clicked before the door opened, and Tanner, a thirty-year-old light coffee-skinned woman with all-seeing eyes came out. Her corn-rolled hair was wrapped in a black silk scarf, and it didn’t look like she had been asleep.
Pari followed Tanner in the front room where a skinny, black crack-head gasped for air. It was a knife wound to the right side. There was thick red blood oozing from the woman’s side and she seemed to have lost a lot of blood because she was very weak.
Pari followed Tanner in the front room where a skinny, black crack-head gasped for air. A knife wound in her right side trickled thick and red blood. Her weakness indicated that she’d lost a lot of blood.
Pari didn’t know much medicinal information, but these knife wounds were familiar to her eyes because they often ended at Tanner’s doorway. Tanner cleaned and dressed the wound with the expertise of an emergency doctor.
She pulled medical supplies out of a large leather bag she usually kept secreted away in the apartment. Most times the supplies were stolen in payment for services rendered. Tanner never questioned how the medical sundries were obtained, but as expensive as some of the supplies, prescribed antibiotics, pills and salves that were given to her, they had to have been gotten through illegal means.
The big man, who brought the woman in, paced back and forth a few feet away from where Tanner worked. When he lit up a cigarette, Tanner barked, “Put that shit out!”
He did, and, when it was all over, Tanner stood and looked at the large, burly man. “Who told you about me?”
“Donetello. He said to bring the bitch here. He lost his cool when the bitch only pulled in about twenty bucks tonight.”
“What the fuck does he expect? It feels like ten below outside!” Tanner sneered.
The man looked past Tanner at the crack-head, who had fallen asleep.
“Yes, but tell your boss she’s out of commission. She probably won’t be working much because the wound needs time to heel and this weather is too dangerous for her to even be outside. The wind chill factor outside feels like five below. I gave her some antibiotics, but if she works for the next couple of days, she’ll tear her stitches.”
“No can do. Donetello’s got a private party tonight, and she’s on the list of entertainment. His other girls are off on other things.”
“Then he shouldn’t have lost his temper,” Tanner spat, wiping the rest of the blood off her hands.
“Donetello said if she’s out of commission, he knows you know someone who can take her place.” The large man winked at Pari, who gasped at the thought of doing what he implied.
“Go in your room, Pari,” Tanner ordered.
Pari protested, “I’m not—”
Tanner turned sharply and screamed, “Go in your mother-fucking room NOW!”
Pari gave her roommate a hurt expression, but understood Tanner knew more about what was really going on than she did, so she enclosed herself in her room, pressing her ear against the door to listen.
Tanner must have known this and ordered the large man to step outside to speak on the steps.
Damn! Tanner, what are you going to do?
A few minutes later, Pari heard a lot of movement as Tanner and the man entered. Another door closed, and then it grew quiet. When Pari’s ear hurt like hell pressed up against the door, she gave up and just went to the front room. There was no one there.
Tanner had left along with the large man and the injured woman on the couch. On the tabletop lay a note from Tanner saying simply: “I’ll be back.”
Sylvia Hubbard knew she’d wanted to be a
writer of romance long before she knew there were black writers in the world.
Weaving stories magically as a summer past time to writing stories to get
through the humdrum of school, she was able to create something from nothing.
Today, she has independently published
over 37 books, is the founder of Motown Writers Network and The AA Electronic
Literary Network, CEO of HubBooks Literary Services, runs over five blogs on a
variety of subjects, host The Michigan Literary Network Radio Show and is a
happily divorced mother of three children in Detroit, Michigan.
“I’m no superwoman,” she states with a
smile that seems infinite on her lips. “I’m just being an asset in the world
instead of a liability.”
Considered an addicted blogger by HoneyTechblog.com,
nominated and recognized for her literary work in the Metro Detroit area,
referred to as “A Literary Diva” by Detroit City Council and donned
“Cliffhanger Queen” by her readers, she finds solace in speaking and educating
on a variety of topics.
Her subjects range from Social Media,
Internet Marketing, Creative Intimacy, Single Parenting, Blogging, E-Books,
Publishing (all aspects i.e.: writing, publishing, marketing & promoting
online & offline), and personal triumphs with inspiration mixed in.
Never a disappointment, Sylvia Hubbard,
has spoken in front of thousands all over the United States and Canada.
SYLVIA’S TOP 5 TIPS ON STAYING MOTIVATED AS A WRITER…
As a Single Mom of Three, running an organization, wearing all the hats to being an Independent Author (wearing all the hats) and just being a woman living in Detroit, many times life gets in the way. The urge to write becomes tedious even though I love writing.
A lot of writers ask me how do I keep motivated, so I’m going to give five short ways to get writing going and keep writing going.
1. Get a playlist. Music is great way to block out the world. Always have your writer’s playlist on all electronics. Your computer, phone, MP3 player and even in your car. Even when you’re not writing, play it to help you get motivated to write when you have the chance.
2. Carry your manuscript. Whatever you’re working on print it out and carry it wherever you go. You’ll get tired of it and start working on it to get rid of it. It’s like a baby you want to hurry up and start walking so you don’t have to carry around anymore.
3. Talk about your story to others. It’s actually puts pressure on yourself to finish it. Talking out loud to the universe seals the deal in your heart of hearts to get the job done.
4. DO NOT EDIT YOUR FIRST DRAFT UNTIL YOU ARE DONE. Finish the story and then go back and add the other twist or work out the ending later but just write it out even if it’s bull crap.
5. Do a cover. Losing momentum? Think you have writer’s block (which I don’t believe in). (Side note: when people tell me they have writer’s block, I imagine them having diarrhea and I just want to give them a laxative. Who has back up for ten years?) Anyhoo, create a cover for your book so it solidifies that it’s real and it’s actually happening.
BONUS: Do research. Keeping the momentum going means giving your story a look and feel that it’s jumping off the page. So do research on:
– The city the characters live in or are going to visit in the book
– Their job. What special lingo do they use at work?
– Their hobbies or their family. Their mother was a drug dealing hairstylist: Research drug dealing and hairstylist.
Literary World of Sylvia Hubbard
BROUGHT TO YOU BY