Gifted

An excerpt from new book "Gifted" coming soon

      Cordell studied the newly renovated apartments in the housing projects he had grown up in.

 

      Wow was the only expression he could summon while noting the stark difference in the buildings facades. The people were the same of course, they made up the lower class debased and dejected denizens of the concrete jungle. Sons of the Serengeti and daughters of the diaspora, they had developed a different set of instincts and survival mechanisms to survive amongst the now highly evolved predators that sought to prey on their poor souls and paltry pockets. The hunt was cerebral now, the ability to differentiate between sheep and a wolf in sheep’s clothing was paramount. To decipher between user, pusher, undercover and robber was tantamount to survival.

      The buildings were new but mentally it was the same old thing. Drugs, violence, ignorance....

      Even repeating the ills felt redundant. The say no to drugs campaign in the 80s had fallen on death ears obviously because children still suffered the same neglect and mistreatment at the hands of addicted parents. 2018 and the only difference was now the dealers used drugs more dangerous than those they sold.

      Cordell studied his old school and his mind was transported to the past. The reverie was a minute long, however it spanned a lifetime...

      Cordell walked home with an uneasy feeling. When he was a child he actually enjoyed school. It was a world of adventure, new people, teachers from different cultures, books upon books upon books... He had learned of Monsters who lived on islands but were actually nice to kids, Giant peaches that became arks, a dragon named Puff who visited a friend to take for a ride through the sky. This was when his mind found joy. Walking home was the reminder. The reminder that the line between fantasy and reality can never be blurred too much or the disappointment that follows the unveiling will rupture the heart.

 

   Evil swarmed into his senses from every direction. Empty conversations full of vulgar language seeped into his ears as he inhaled the smell of reefer, beer from a broken bottle. A boy just sold a bag of something to a vagabond. The act looked bad the money looked good.

      Making it into his home was a miracle in and of itself and just as he wanted to exhale from holding his breath in apprehension he smelled...the smell... and decided against it. Too deep of an inhale would surely leave him lightheaded.

      Wanting to say hello and give his mother a kiss he peeked around the tv to see if she was in the kitchen. She was, however, “busy” as she always put it so he decided to mind his business. Slightly dejected he climbed the steps and headed towards his bedroom.

      Pulling out his papers he observed the stickers, Smiley faces and 100% signs written above each. He wished he could share his joy with his mother. He wished she understood how much it bothered him that he was unable to share all the wonderful things he was learning with her.

      Diane knew her son was brilliant and knew he needed more from her at this time in his life. She also knew she was battling so many of her own demons she had no way of giving him the time and attention he needed...

Reviews

[JayG]

• Cordell studied the newly renovated apartments in the housing projects he had grown up

I hate to be the one to tell you this, but this is not even close to being ready for release. The first line is incomplete. Did you edit this even once?

• Wow was the only expression he could summon while noting the stark difference in the buildings facades.

"Wow," is a word, not an expression. And again, the sentence is incomplete. It appears that English isn't your first language, based on the word choices. And given that you're transcribing yourself speaking, which can't work on the page because the reader can't know what emotion you expect the reader to place into the words as they read, you've obviously not dug into the nuts and bolts issues of writing fiction for the page.

I say this not to insult your writing, but because if it's your intent to have someone edit his prior to publication, you would be wasting your money. Editing is done to polish what the author misses when they edit because they're too close to the work. It's not to turn a sow's ear into a silk purse, because if the editor could do that, they'd be writing and selling their own work and making lots of money.

If you aren't going to have it edited, and plan to self publish, as it stands, no one will buy it. And I say that as someone who owned a manuscript critiquing service and taught writing techniques at workshops.

In short: You need to dig into the skills of writing fiction. They're not at all like the style of writing we're taught in school, because there, we learn only nonfiction writing skills, which are useless for fiction.

Sorry my news isn't better, but I wanted to save you the time and expense of trying to publish this.

[Olu Dumare]

*I say this not to insult your writing, but because if it's your intent to have someone edit his prior to publication, you would be wasting your money.

*this

[Olu Dumare]

I believe his expression reflected the "word" wow because at this point he's alone and not saying any words. I am a self-published author and someone said something similar about the first of nine books I've published. I love constructive criticism so I'm looking into the highlighted critiques, however, some people buy things at events just because they're attending the event. So to say i wouldn't make money. Thanks for also highlighting your credentials in hopes I may take your discouragement seriously, I didn't. I've been publishing my unorthodox style of writing since 2008 and I would love to continue to grow as a writer, just have to separate criticism from the forces of darkness that strive to destroy spirits.