Lena Hampton's Blog

Hello Loves,

Sonder is defined as the realization that each random passerby is living a life as vivid and complex as your own. Originally from the Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows, which has a lot more beautiful neologism definitions like this, you might enjoy.

Sonder is not a "real" word as it is not in any of the standard dictionaries. It's in Urban Dictionary, which is pretty standard to me because the definition of Lena makes me sound like I have myself together, which I obviously do (some restrictions may apply).

Lena: A very bubbly person, and so beautiful. Caring too. She gets a lot of attention, but she doesn't even realize it, which is something amazing about her. She's sometimes in her own little world, and everyone wants to be a part of that . . . She's very fun and funny. It's always a pleasure to be around her. She can handle any situation well, and knows how to plan . . . She's the whole package!

I like the concept of sonder. Everyone is the main character in the movie of their life, even if they are just an unnamed extra in mine. Wondering what these random strangers life might be like feeds my imagination. When out and about I often make up stories about the people around me. Sometimes I don't have to make up stories because for some reason beyond my understanding total strangers will tell me about their life. Maybe I just have that kind of face or maybe it's because I listen, usually without judgment.

Overhearing part of someone’s conversation allows a glimpse into a total stranger’s life. Peeking into a stranger’s life is a sonder moment. I find it exhilarating. I’m a voyeur in that sense. If you’re a voyeur too, you may enjoy the web serial I have in the works called The Girl About Town. There will be many sonder moments in the coffee shop where tourists’ conversations and phone calls are overheard. There will also be interesting and socially relevant discussions from the staff and regulars.

I hope to have the first part of the serial to share with you soon.

Love,

Lena

Hello Loves,

Sometimes the river of words dries up, even for the most experienced authors. This used to be my default mode. It’s the very reason I have a tote full of partially written stories. I’d start the novel, thousands of words would pour out, then they trickled before turning into a drip that found my fingers hovering over the keyboard trying to figure out what to write. The rule to follow to combat writer’s block is:

For me, writer’s block isn’t me not knowing what to write, just not knowing what to write for that particular part of the story. I didn’t know what to write for that part of the story. Back then I thought I had to write stories chronologically, start at chapter 1, then chapter 2, followed by chapter 3, and so on until the last chapter. This didn’t work for me because while chapter 6 may be the next chronologically, none of the words are flowing for it. Meanwhile, I’m holding chapter 12 back with a damn because I have to write in the proper order.

So, yeah, no. There is no proper order. If there is, the proper order is however you write. I figured this out when I was struggling to write a part of act one for a novel but kept jotting down sticky note after sticky note for the middle of act three. They were supposed to be notes but my “notes” became a three-foot-long chain of stickies. I gave up writing by some arbitrary rule I made up. If I’m making up rules, they should make the process easier for me, not more difficult. I made the rule to write whatever was flowing regardless of what part of the story it was or even if it’s part of another story. This may sound chaotic because it is and I’ll post someday about how I organize the chaos.

Another problem is my internal editor inhibits my writing. She’s hypercritical of my writing abilities and loud and obnoxious about it to boot. For example, she would have had me rewriting the previous sentence because a real writer would not have used and twice so close to each other. She believes every single word needs to be absolutely perfect. Oh, and she’s screaming now because I used an adverb. She reminded me time and time again of the rule regarding not using adverbs. Oh, and how she hounds me to fix every misspelled word the moment the red squiggly line appears because any legit writer can spell. My internal editor’s sole purpose is to inhibit the writing process until I give up.

I can go on and on about all the ways she tries to slow me down and stop me, but I’ll tell you I stopped her by duct taping her mouth shut because she wouldn’t be quiet when I asked nicely. Seriously, I quieted the voice in my head by reminding myself of rule #1- just write. If a word is misspelled, I just keep on moving because the seconds it takes to go back to correct one word means five new words not written (and probably misspelled). Those new words are far more valuable than any correction. In fact, all new words are preferential to fixing grammar errors or struggling to think of the perfect word. I calm my inner editor by telling her she’ll get to shine during the editing process, but only if she’s quiet during the writing process. She shut up at the opportunity to sink her teeth into 50k words instead of 50 words.

These issues may not be yours. Whatever causes your writing block, this rule still applies. Writing is the only way around writer’s block. Write in a different order while ignoring the errors. Write something other than your story, like a blog post, an epic length text, or a journal entry.  It doesn’t matter what you’re writing as long as you’re writing. Plus, if you stop writing you’re not adhering to rules 1 or 2.

Love,

Lena

My assistant asks if my client if he would like anything to drink in the bubbliest voice she can conjure. I can tell she’s hoping for the answer to be no so she can scurry back to her desk and finish reading an article in Architectural Digest.  I saw the magazine sitting on her desk, she’s not very gifted at hiding. The Office Manager hires the assistants with little input from the financial reps. My job, I like. My co-workers, on the other hand, are from hell.

I’m a rarity at my company:

I’m a Democrat (more anti-Republican than actual practicing democrat).

I’m average height for my gender.

My head is still covered by hair.

I’m not overweight nor have the appearance of being due any moment.

I have common sense (or uncommon sense since there’s nothing common about having sense in these parts).

I don't look two decades older than my age.

I’m female.

I’m black.

Now I’m sure you are wondering how I came to work here.  One word, resume. Another word, name. I have an awesome resume.  It’s littered with those things HR and managers find impressive. My  MBA and most importantly to the cheap managerial bastards that don’t want to pay for more testing are my NASD series 6, 7, 63, and 65 licensing make me the cat’s meow.  The six years of financial industry experience (I know it’s a reach to count the teller job I had, but resume is French for stretch the truth isn’t it?). There’s even an assistant managerial position at a reputable fine retail establishment (which they were handing out to anyone over 18).   

What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.  Perhaps my parents were reading Shakespeare when they named me Colton Kent Walsh. The name just screams femininity.  It wasn’t Shakespeare, but the times that guided my parent’s choice. I was born in the mid-Seventies. While my parents weren’t fist-raised members of the black panthers, they were very much for uplifting the black peoples of America.  While others were naming their children afro-centric names, my parents saw a name as a chance more than an expression of their beliefs. Both of my parents had college degrees and were still struggling to live a lower middle-class lifestyle with one child (in fact they debated heavily having a second child because they didn’t know if they could afford it).  

Regardless of any civil rights advancements made in this country, it remains difficult, to say the least, to be black in America.  Additionally, being a woman is not a cakewalk either. While my parents didn’t want me to be white, or male, they did want opportunity to knock on my door as often as possible.  Therefore, they gave me a white man’s name. Though I hated them for it growing up, I sing praises to the Lord for blessing them with intelligence and insight. My afro-centric named contemporaries were sending resumes off by the dozens, and getting one or two interviews before moving back home or continuing to work their “college” job. Meanwhile, I, Colton Kent Walsh, got an interview for every resume I sent out. So, Mr. Shakespeare, there is so much in a name.

Hello Loves,

This was written over a decade ago. At the time I was working in the financial services industries and had my NASD (National Association of Securities Dealers) Series 7 license which allowed me to trade securities like stocks and bonds. Much like many of my characters, I may borrow some aspects of myself and improve on them. I don't have an MBA and only the one NASD license. One thing I do have is the ability to make my name seem like I'm a white male on a resume.

I'm not sure where I was going with this, it was likely a romance because—what else would I be writing?

Love,

Lena

Hello Loves,

Not many of us are fortunate enough to write full time. (Oh how I wish I were one of the lucky ones. Maybe someday.) As I mentioned in my Just Write post my plate is full. I have family and friends that demand time. I have a small craft business because I can’t stay away from crafting any more than I can stay away from storytelling, believe me, I’ve tried. There’s also the EDJ (evil day job) which is only evil because it takes up the bulk of my day and keeps me from writing (but it keeps the bills paid so...).

With all the balls I’m juggling how do I keep them all in the air? Simple. I don’t. I drop balls all the time. I’ll pick some of them back up right away. But, sometimes I let them stay on the ground and just kick them along as I go. This is part of the reason I’ve not published a book in three years (gasp!). The ball I let drop isn’t the writing ball. I’ve been writing. There’s way more to self-publishing than writing and I let the ball drop on all those other things. But this isn’t about publishing, it’s about writing. The rule to follow to fit writing into your life:

Treat writing like it’s a part-time job. If you were to take a part-time job at a retail store you wouldn’t show up occasionally or when you felt like it because you’d be afraid of getting fired. While you can’t be fired from writing, but in some ways, not completing the story in you is like losing your dream job. Hire yourself as the writer of the story you’ve been dying to tell. Interview yourself if you must.

Why are you suited for the author position?

What do you hope to accomplish in your role?

Where do you see yourself in five years?

When will you be able to start?

Nepotism is alive and well so you’ll hire yourself. The first thing you’ll do is set schedule. If you can only find an hour here and there, put it on your calendar, set reminders on your Echo or Google Home, write them on a sticky note on the fridge or whatever you have to do to remember it’s writing time. Tell your family you have to got “to work” then go write. Fill out a timesheet like you’re punching a clock. If you’re not writing when you’re supposed to, put yourself on a performance improvement plan.   Start or join a writing group that meets regularly to help keep you accountable (plus being around other creatives keeps you creative).

Just like any other job, there should be rules. Writing time is writing time. Turn the wifi off on your laptop so you’re not tempted to check your social media accounts. Also, if you use Google Docs like me being disconnected from the internet takes away the distraction of squiggly lines correcting your spelling and grammar. Most importantly, turn the TV off. You may think you’re a mistress of multitasking, but I promise the words flow better without the distraction.

Congrats on your new job!

Love,

Lena

Milan truly believed ignorance was bliss.  Not intellectual ignorance, but ignorance from her reality.  When she got bills in the mail she just didn't open them because not seeing the amount due meant she didn't have to pay, which she couldn't afford to do anyway.  She used ignorance to cope with reality.

 It was 10:40 pm on December 1.  She sat in her dorm room alone streaming music.  That day she had taken an HIV test as part of the campuses World Aids Day.  After a year of simply not wanting to know and several months of conceiving every possible reason it couldn't happen to her, she finally conceded to doing what was right for her.  The days it would take for the results to come back would be tough. Fear of a positive test had already begun to set in.

 Her phone vibrated on her lap, causing her to startling her out of her thoughts.  Darren had sent her a text. She wasn't in the mood for his cheap imitation of conversation leading up to his real purpose, sex.  She told him in a quick text.

She'd dated Darren for about three months until giving up on a relationship about six months ago.  He still texted her every now and then. In her weaker and lonelier moments, she texted him too. Holding out hope for a renewed ex during bouts of loneliness was common. Each conversation reminded her why they were ex-boyfriends.  No one reminded her more of those reasons than Darren.

  He was a mistake from the beginning.  She met him one day on her way to work.  She was walking in the sun, wearing a floral dress that fit tightly on her hips and butt and exposed one of her slender, shapely legs through a front split.  He was driving along when he saw her. At the red light, he asked, through the window, if she needed a ride. Feeling adventurous that day, she got in the car.

  Some nights she regretted that decision.  Those were usually the weekends when she was sitting alone in her room while he was out having fun, not answering her calls after she’d skip a party because they had a date and he’d stood her up. Those nights didn't come until about a month of them seriously dating.  

In the beginning, he was one of the nicest guys she’d ever gone out with.  He often volunteered to pick her up from work on nights she worked late. Darren would call from work just to see how Milan was doing.  He would make sure she wasn't hungry and that they were doing something at least one night of the weekend. She was willing to accept all his faults because he was so, well so nice.  He had begun to restore her faith in men, especially black men.

  That was before they'd had sex.  After that, he added validity to her sentiment it's not a matter of if the man will mess up, but when.  All his faults were less acceptable without the nice guy she’d fallen for. The fact that he was twenty-eight, nine years older than her nineteen was kind of creepy. He’d confided in her he’d been judged by others for having four kids by four different women, but she was special because she didn’t. She should have, especially because two of those children were born days apart. She was so enamored by someone wanted her as much as he did she’d been okay with him having been incarcerated for attempted murder. When she’d admitted she’d had sex with five guys since losing her virginity at seventeen, he’d tried to comfort her by telling her that was a low number because he’d had sex with over one-hundred women. She’d accepted that because she thought she’d be the last. Not only was it not acceptable, it was frightening because she realized how risky it was they had only used proper protection about ninety-eight percent of the time.

  Darren was a mistake.  Milan fell asleep praying that mistake wouldn't be a death sentence.

Hello Loves,

How does this end?! Was her HIV test positive or negative?! I wish I knew. I should know because I'm the author, but I don't. This is the beginning of a novel. There were some notes about meeting a nerdy guy and not wanting to date him until she got the results but they didn't include the test results.

This was written when I was in college in the 90s. I did update a few things from the original writing like she's not listening to CDs and the results of her HIV tests takes less time. This isn't a true story, but it does borrow heavily from the truth. I also used to walk to work and would get catcalls from cars slowing down. I would never get in the car like she did, but I did date my share of guys I shouldn't have including a guy who served time for attempted murder.

The importance of this story hasn't changed since it was written because HIV testing is just as important now as it was then. The open ending, though accidental, works because it leads a reader open to get tested and answer with their own results.

Love,

Lena

Hello Loves,

I’m not the only writer in the family. I have not one, not two, but three cousins that have also published. My sister has jumped on the bandwagon too and is in the midst of writing to someday publish. As you can imagine when I talk to my sister the conversation often turns to writing. Since she’s still in the getting to a completed manuscript phase, she often asks me about my process. I share my techniques and encourage her to find what works for her. As she is one of my biggest cheerleaders she often says I should teach a class on it. Well, that’s not going to happen because who has that sort of time? Between my EDJ (evil day job), two children, a husband, writing, and various craft projects I surely don’t. What I do have time for is to post a few tips every now and then for aspiring authors.

Some of my techniques aren’t mine. I’ve just picked them up along the way from other authors and websites then tailored them. I’ll kick things off with the most important tip. If you follow this number one rule I promise you will get from once upon a time to they lived happily ever after. Or from dead body shriek to who done it if that’s what floats your boat. Or from A long time ago in a galaxy far far away to...does science fiction have endings or just sequels? At any rate, the rule you need to follow to complete a novel in any genre is:

That’s all it takes. Just write. Granted just writing isn’t easy, it can seem like climbing Mount Everest in flip-flops at times. Whether it be finding time or writer’s block, there are things that make just writing hard (I’ll talk about those things in later posts). If you climb the novel writing with frequency, it’ll begin to feel like a hill.

Even if you think the writing is crappy, keep writing. You’ll read what you’ve written and one of two things will happen. The writing will be better than you thought while writing and your writing confidence will be boosted because you’ll see how phenomenal a writer you are. Or, the writing will be just as bad as you thought but there will be a few little gems in there for you to polish to a bright shine. Remember too, the more you write, the better your writing becomes.

Love,

Lena

Hello Loves,

In 2013 I published my first novel. Within days Jack & Diane had sold hundreds of copies and reached number one on Amazon Kindle’s Multicultural and Interracial Romance and African-American Literature lists. I received an unsolicited from Grammarly offering to sponsor a blog post. I even received an email and talked to an editor from Harlequin Books. There were offers to guest blog and even appear at conferences.  It was a very exciting time.

I should have been on these opportunities like white on rice, but I wasn’t. I never responded to Grammarly. It took me years to ever contact that editor again. Success came so easily the first time out of the gate and I was so green that I thought it would always be that way. I published my second novel, Someone to Love, in 2014. It was successful too, it took longer, but it did eventually reach number one. There were no offers or emails.

In 2015 I published my third novel. The Nearness of  You has yet to reach number one. In fact, it’s barely sold. Perhaps if I’d answered when opportunity knocked, it would have. Maybe if I’d blogged more regularly, or sent out newsletters on a more regular basis I’d have a fan base that would be excited when I published and would have catapulted the book to number one as well. If I’d published the three books more closely together, perhaps they would have all been successful.

It wasn’t just hubris, but I was also spread thin. I wasn’t just overwhelmed because I’m a working mother with a full-time job. See, when I set out on my journey as an author, I also set out to be a publisher. I was publishing other authors works as well as my own. It didn’t help that multiple books had the same publication date. All the details of publishing a book were multiplied by two or three. Granted, I had a business partner, but because I'm adequate at many things (such as graphic design and website building), my portion of responsibilities as a publisher pushed my responsibilities as an author to the sidelines.

My lifelong dream has always been to write, not to publish. If I had it to do all over again, I would have just been an author. If I had, perhaps I’d be a full-time author now. But I’m not one to live in what if land. I’m still writing because it’s what I love. I’ve learned from my past mistakes so I hopefully won’t repeat them. I’m due to release my first novel in three years in the next couple of months. This will be the first time I’ll solely have the hat of author on.

The first time around success came too easy and I didn’t fully appreciate how blessed I was. If Whiskey Kisses, my first novel in three years, is as successful as either of my first two novels, I’ll cherish it because I’ll have worked harder for it. This time around, I’ll be waiting at the door to answer when opportunity knocks.

Love,

Lena

Hello Love,

There’s a line from the movie Sister Act II that has stuck with me since I heard it:

“If you wake up in the morning, and you can’t think of anything but singing. Then you should be a singer.”

Well, I can’t sing. Not even a little. Not even if my life depended on it. But writing and storytelling is my singing. Since I was a little girl, I’ve been telling stories. Before I could read or write I was making up stories, especially with my Barbies. When I was in middle school I wrote (by hand), every night after I finished my homework, I wrote a soap opera starring my friends and classmates. I’ve always written because I’ve always had a story. I have stacks and stacks of paper, binders, and countless computer files with things I’ve written from poems to short stories to beginnings of novels. Then life got in the way.

I was a mother and wife with a full-time job. So even though I woke up thinking about writing, I wasn’t putting pen to paper as frequently and eventually not at all. Eventually, I stopped thinking about writing when I woke up.

Then one day my life started to change. I was divorced and I was getting passed over for promotions at work. I was suddenly a single mother struggling to make my paycheck last until the next one. I could get angry and mad because of my circumstances. I could sit around and feel sorry for myself and ask God why me? Why does my life so hard? Why is my life not fair? But I didn’t. I asked what instead. What am I supposed to learn from my struggles? What path am I being moved towards?

The answer came on Facebook. My cousin had posted that she was going to participate in the National Novel Writing Month ( NaNoWriMo for short) and asked who wanted to do it with her. The NaNoWriMo challenge is to write 50 thousand words in 30 days. That sounded crazy, but I was crazy enough to sign up.

At the end of that month, I had a rough draft of a novel. In all the writing I’d ever done, I’d never finished a novel. That was the first time I made it from once upon a time to they lived happily ever after. I was satisfied with that accomplishment. Having completed a novel (even just a rough draft) put me in an elite group of people.

While I was satisfied with that, my cousin and sister (both who’d read my rough), were not. They insisted I polish up the rough and publish a novel. I did some research and found technology made it so anyone could publish for little to no money so I went for it. I published my first e-book Jack and Diane. My expectation was my friends and family would buy it just to be nice and it wouldn’t sell much more.

I was very wrong. Within a week I reached number 1 on Amazon Kindle’s African-American literature (as well as African-American Romance and Interracial Romance). I’d sold a couple of thousand in the first week. I got several 4 and 5-star reviews. I’ve since published two more books. One of which also reached number one. Combined with over 25 thousand copies of my three books have been sold. I’ve even had a major publisher reach out to me and I’m in the process of completing a novel for submission. Writing has proved so much more rewarding than feeling sorry for myself.

Follow your passion. When faced with adversity, grow from it. Take advantage of modern technology to not just entertain you, but improve you.

Love,

Lena

Hello Loves,

My upcoming novel, Whisky Kisses, is the love story of Wilder Mann and Serenity Breedlove. Wilder is nothing more than a one night stand for Serenity. But for Wilder, Serenity is a forever kind of lady because she didn't care about his stage persons, but the real him. There are so many obstacles in the way of their forever. Is his fame too much for her? Will their love be strong enough to survive her ruining his longest friendship?

To help write the story I created a moodboard for inspiration. Here it is.

So, what's on the board?

My inspiration for how the characters look is country singer Tim McGraw and model Jaana Santiago. When thinking of a sexy male country artist who've been in the business for a while Tim was the only name that came to mind for me. I imagined him as I wrote my male lead, Wilder Mann. I turned to Pinterest to find inspiration for my female lead, Serenity Breedlove, a woman with curves (or as she describes it "extra ladyness"). Jaana Santiago has the body type, style, and beauty I'd imagined for Serenity.

After just one breif meeting Wilder dedicates the Kenny Rogers song "Lady" to her. One of the notes are lyrics from the song.

"I'm a hydrangea," is something Serenity says, but you'll have to wait for the book to come out later this year to get the context.

Love,

Lena

Hello Loves,

I like sci-fi, comic books, and superheroes, enough so that I’ve referenced some of my favorite TV shows and characters in my books. I’m not hard core, but I grew up on reruns of Wonder Woman and The Incredible Hulk (which is why you won’t get me to choose between DC or Marvel--I enjoy them both). It wasn’t until the mid-nineties, as an adult, I started reading comic books because Downtown Comics was near the bus stop. The only Marvel/DC comic I read was when they joined forces under the imprint Amalgam and combined Storm from X-men with Wonder Woman to create a character. The comic I read regularly was Ghost by Dark Horse, which had just debuted at the time.

I’m totally hooked on the MCU (Marvel Cinematic Universe) and the Arrowverse (the DC tv shows). I watch and listen to way more videos and podcasts about comic book movies than I’m willing to admit to. Comic book fandom is like no other. There are breakdowns of trailers, even scene by scene breakdowns of trailer teasers. This has changed not only how I watch these movies, but all movies, including my much beloved, made for TV romcoms (Hallmark, PIXL, UP, and Lifetime but only at Christmas).

While romcoms don’t have a rabid fanbase comic book movies do after Hallmark movie premiere my mom (let’s call her Momma Lena so I don’t get in trouble for talking about her in my blog by name) and I set aside time to discuss these movies. We start off with an overall review of if we did or didn’t like it. Being the massive fans of the genre that we are, we like them 9 out of 10 times. This doesn’t mean we find all the movies to be perfect. We aren’t unaware of predictability of these movies. In fact, it’s the thing we like about these movies. We know for certain there will be a happily ever after and they’ll often be so syrupy sweet we may go into a diabetic coma which is a perfect break from the real world.

The real fun comes when we start to play a little game we’ve made up. We count how many other of these movies the actors have been in. We don’t do this just for the leads but also the supporting characters. This is a test of our memories because we only resort to IMBD when we disagree. Sometimes Momma Lena will comment on the attractiveness of the male lead. There are some movies she likes primarily because the male lead is nice looking. If the plot is similar to another movie we discuss point for point how it’s the same and how movies almost exactly alike get made.

The thing we discuss the most is whether or not there is a minority best friend. There often is. This is an attempt at diversity. I say attempt because while the cast is diverse, the lead characters aren’t. I can only think of two movies where the lead was played by a non-white actor. Both movies starred the new Duchess of Sussex. In both, it wasn’t apparent the character was also biracial like Meghan Markle is. Passion Flix, a new streaming service, has exclusive original content based on best selling romance novels. They’ll be making movies based on Brenda Jackson. It will be nice to see black female leads.

Until then, June wedding movies are starting on Hallmark soon and I can’t wait.

Love,

Lena