Pamela Taeuffer's Blog - Posts Tagged "romance-novel"

At seventeen, Nicky confides in cheer team mentor Alexandra Flowers and Tara Summers about her family's dysfunction and also her fears and doubts about her body. Her hips, breasts, and stomach are more developed than her peers, she is getting looks from older men, and she's uncomfortable in her own skin and with others. She sits in the bleachers talking with the two women.

"My dad's an alcoholic, Alex," I confided while she waited with me in the outfield bleachers at the Goliaths baseball stadium.

It was shortly after I had graduated from my sophomore year in high school that I came up with an idea to bring together two of my favorite things: Goliaths baseball and another after school activity in which I could participate, padding my resume for college.

I planned to study business marketing and wanted to do it at Stanford. From talking with my guidance counselor I knew I needed to be aggressive, somehow standing out from the thousands of students wanting to go there.

So I surveyed Goliath fans via social media, researched and gathered data which supported my idea, and put together my plan for a cheer team.

I proposed we sing and do gymnastics to carefully selected songs approved by management, which would also play over the public address system.

Cheering on a professional baseball field had never been done before. I knew if my plan was accepted, Stanford would follow. After reviewing and editing it more than a dozen times, I finally sent it off to Jose Vasquez, the Entertainment Marketing Manager with the Goliaths. In December of my junior year I got the call that it was accepted.

Our cheer team consisted of six members: Colleen, who was also my best friend, Sharon, Lorraine, Marilyn, Patty, and me.

All of us grew up together in the same neighborhood and had been friends since grade school. We kept our fingers crossed that this adventure would be our ticket to college.

Was I nervous about walking onto a professional baseball field and performing in front of forty-thousand people? Hell yes. With every performance I fidgeted and had butterflies in my stomach.

Like a "deer in the headlights," is how we felt, our eyes wide open, afraid, nervous, and excited. Two women, Tara Summers and Alexandra Flowers, noticed, and immediately took us under their wings, especially me.

Tara was married to Matt Summers, a pitcher on the Goliaths. She was a small, petite, gentle soul with long, strawberry blonde hair. Her face was dotted with freckles and she generally wore jeans or loose flowing pants in earthy colors and materials like cotton and muslin.

Her very good friend, Alex, was engaged to Darrell Sweet, also a pitcher on the Goliaths, and she couldn't have been more different. She was a tall woman with reddish brown hair who had such striking features that she'd been a model since high school. When she wore jeans, they were often paired with heels and a designer blouse or sweater.

Something just clicked between the three of us and we bonded immediately.

It began with long talks in the bleachers, which led to requests made only of me to water their plants, or housesit when they were away, volunteering with them at their favorite charities, and then eventually, we began socializing together.

Our first performance was a Friday night in early April. It was usually cold for night games in San Francisco, until early autumn when "Indian Summer" came to the Bay Area, bringing calm breezes and warmer temperatures.

The Goliaths games generally sold out; they'd been competitive for the previous ten years, and their fan base was scattered throughout a one-hundred-mile radius.

And so, as thousands of people sat in their seats waiting for the game to begin, we performed the routines we'd rehearsed almost every day for four months. Each was two minutes long, and we took the field before the first, third, fifth and eighth innings.

I remembered sitting in the stands with my father at six, seven, and eight years old, all around the stadium, slurping up a hot fudge sundae or eating a pretzel. Actually being on the field, among the baseball men I'd cheered for while sitting next to him, was surreal.

Now it was our sixth game, and we waited behind the outfield fences for our first performance. The noises of the crowd surrounded us, and drifting by were the smells of hot dogs and popcorn.

I hadn't gotten over my nervousness, and still, my stomach turned over. I was self-conscious and had anxiety from just about everything.

It was a Saturday afternoon, as Alex waited with me, and I told her about my alcoholic father, and the battles for survival my sister and I faced daily.

1. HOW DO YOU/DID YOU FEEL ABOUT YOUR BODY AT SEVENTEEN?

2. DO YOU LOOK BACK NOW AND REALIZE HOW BEAUTIFUL YOU ARE/WERE?

3. WHAT ARE SOME OF THE FEARS ABOUT YOUR BODY THAT STAY WITH YOU EVEN NOW?

4. WHAT WAS THE MOMENT, IF YOU'VE SURVIVED ADDICTION IN YOUR FAMILY, YOU REALIZED SOMETHING WAS WRONG?

#alcoholism #comingofage #women #newadultromance #romance #contemporary romance #family #addiction

IN THIS SCENE NICKY YOUNG, OUR YOUNG WOMAN COMING OF AGE, SITS WITH HER NEW WOMEN FRIENDS AND MENTORS, TARA SUMMERS AND ALEXANDRA FLOWERS, WIFE AND FIANCE TO MATT AND DARRELL SWEET, PROFESSIONAL PITCHERS ON THE SAN FRANCISCO GOLIATHS BASEBALL TEAM.

NIKCY HAS JUST SHARED WITH ALEX THAT HER FATHER IS AN ALCOHOLIC, AND BEGINS TO REFLECT INWARD ON HER PROBLEMS OF MAKING NEW RELATIONSHIPS AND HER CHALLENGES ABOUT HAVING SEX.

To finally share the information with someone I trusted, who was another adult, was such a relief, and in doing so, I cemented the relationship with my two new women friends.

"This is an escape as much as a hope that Stanford will acknowledge me," I said. "My dad and sister argue and fight all the time, and my mom is just, somewhere else. I wanna get out of there."

"What about you?" Alex asked. "What's your relationship like with your Dad?"

"I love him, but he's made me . . ." I stumbled to find the word.

"Numb?" she asked knowingly.

"Yeah," I said.

"I know, Sweetheart," she said patting my back, "I know."

How do you know?

When Tara joined us, Alex excused herself to check on my teammates.

"What's your routine like tonight?" Tara asked. Both she and Alex were yell leaders in high school and working with cheer routines was second nature for them.

As I stood up, waving my hands in the air to demonstrate, the Goliaths were on the field taking batting practice, shagging balls, and doing their sprints and stretches.

"Looks like you guys have it down," Tara said. "I'll be watching to make sure I don't see anything you need to work out. If I do, you can all come over to my house and we'll review it."

When I sat down, I noticed Ryan Tilton, who was a pitcher, the game closer, for the Goliaths, looking at me as he ran to catch fly balls and then throw them back to the infield.

Ryan's six-foot, two-inch frame, athletic body, blue eyes, and golden brown hair were like a beacon, and I'd already noticed in just a few weeks, how people were naturally drawn to him.

The women were endless, dressed to attract a single man, but there was also a parade of others hoping for a piece of the good looking, professional athlete he was.

"Yeah, okay," I said. "Hey, what's Ryan Tilton staring at anyway? He's been looking over here off and on for the last half hour."

"Don't mess with that one," Tara said. "He's a wild boy."

"Yeah, I gathered as much," I said. "You know, almost everyone has come out to introduce themselves to us, but he's among only a few that hasn't."

"He's got a reputation along with his friend, Kevin Reynolds," she said. "I think Ryan has a steady. At least there's a blonde woman named Jesse who hangs around him, but 'steady' is relative when it comes to that boy. You shouldn't even think about a ball player."

"No chance of that. I don't even date," I said laughing.

I entered into my adult life innocent and extremely naïve about sex and boys. I was shut down and closed off, and afraid that having a boyfriend meant I'd get distracted and my grades would suffer.

Ultimately I interpreted a boyfriend as a roadblock to Stanford and much too risky. Ever since I was a young girl I had marked the beginning of college on my calendar with a red pen and circled each day that passed in yellow.

I was stubborn and frustratingly slow to open up and let anyone inside my personal fortress.

All my friends were sexually active, but I just wasn't ready. Sex was a strange concept for me. I couldn't understand my friends having it at fifteen and sixteen. Stay away from boys as long as possible was what I believed, especially since my sister had been raped at fourteen.

The day my sister's life changed forever, I came home from school at the usual time.

WHAT ARE YOUR CHALLENGES WITH INTIMACY?

HOW MANY TIMES COULD YOU HAVE REACHED OUT TO A FRIEND OR CO-WORKER IN A VULNERABLE AND LOVING WAY?

WHY IS SEX CARRY SUCH A BIG STIGMA IF IT'S BETWEEN TWO CONSENTING ADULTS?

I welcome your comments and invite you to contact me on my website www.PamelaTaeuffer.com

Or e mail me: pamelataeuffer@gmail.com

I am also on Facebook: /Shadow-Heart and Pinterest: /pamelataeuffer/shadowheart

Twitter: @PTaeufferAuthor

Thank for reading!Shadow Heart

Shadow Heart* If you've been raised in family addiction, you know what family secrets are.

* When you cover family secrets, do you feel like no one will understand?

* When you feel alone, do you feel abandoned?

THERE'S NO RIGHT TIME TO BEGIN TO TELL YOU STORY.

EXPLAIN, EXPLORE, HELP OTHERS TO DISCOVER -- THEY AREN'T ALONE. MILLIONS HAVE COME FROM GENERATIONS BEFORE, TRYING TO STOP THE DYSFUNCTION.

When your story involves dark family secrets, secrets that need to be told, secrets that may offend dead, alive, those in denial, those willing to share, and reveal . . . just when do you decide to write those things?


Sisters ttrying to protect themselves against dark family secrets
I have a friend whose siblings curse her for telling her dark family story. Even though her book is magnificent, brilliantly revealing the raw, bare details of growing up in dysfunction, helping others better understand the effects of being raised in addiction.

I have a sibling who wants it out, along with me, so that others may walk perhaps a little more lightly when they realize "it's not them" it's the survival from four years old, it's the walking on eggshells every day, and it's the fear of being driven to the bar, then home, by a parent who is drunk.

When do those secrets come out and the feelings of being terrified and shamed and abandoned night after night as we took care of our own needs, even though my sister and I were only 4 and 7 years old?

When is it time?
Why should those secrets lay buried?
Should the ones who brought the darkness down on us be spared?
Should the ones who abused us stay hidden?

When is it time?

“You don’t date?” Alex asked, once again joining Tara and me sitting in the bleachers.

“No,” I said.
“Why ever not,” she asked.

I was ridiculously naïve and socially backward in so many ways. Being raised in an alcoholic family can do that. It was better to hide away and shut down rather than feel the extreme joy or intense pain of life.

Like most of us, I had learned from what my parents taught by how they relate to one another.

How soft are they?
Do they reach for each other’s hand?
Are their kisses open and frequent?
Do they hold the door open for each other?
Are their faces or eyes soft when they look or talk to each other? What about their terms of endearment? I never heard “my love,

honey, dear, sweetie,” or any other pet name.
What I saw, was that my mother had opened her heart to a man, and

in doing so, said, “I trust you” in every way.

She believed a promise of everything better in my father, who at the time was newly returned from serving in the army and beginning his career as a streetcar driver. Mom saw a light in his eyes and was attracted to his sense of humor and carefree spirit. It was an innocence she didn’t experience as a young girl.

What were the examples of a relationship growing up?
What were the examples of a relationship growing up?
They met through a friend who introduced them when my mom had just moved to San Francisco. My father fell in love with the strong woman she seemed to be; so much so, that they committed to each other in every way—to marry, make a life, and have children.

Who knows what went wrong, but ultimately their love was crushed and their hearts were broken. Neither of them made time for each other, or remained tender. They closed their doors and windows and became hard.

A diseased man pushed her and hit her and told her by his love for the bottle, that she wasn’t good enough. Mom wasn’t even second best. His friends at the bar stood in that place.

So for me, the lesson from my parents taught me to shut down, never let anyone in, and especially when it came to a boy, keep my heart closed. Being someone’s girlfriend or wife meant abuse and being a second choice.

To make sure I didn’t have to battle those traumas, I held my sword at my side, ready to slice them from my life as soon as I felt threatened. I didn’t give anyone a chance to explain if I felt wronged.

It was all about trust—or more accurately—the lack of it, and discus- sions such as these are what brought Tara, Alex, and me close together as girlfriends.

NICKY'S MOTHER SITS IN THE KITCHEN, TRYING NOT TO UNDERSTAND, EVEN AS SHE UNDERSTANDS, HER DAUGHTER'S NEED TO STAY BUSY AND AWAY FROM THE DARK SECRETS OF THEIR HOME.


My mother hid her emotions every day.
Now, instead of the gratification she'd received from her work, she picked up my father from the front lawn after he'd passed out, or helped him as he stumbled out of his truck, or undressed him and put him to bed, and sometimes wiped his ass when he'd made a mess of himself.

She drove to the store to get his bottles of whiskey so he wouldn’t drive drunk to get them.

Mom could've hidden his keys but that would have meant taking his verbal and sometimes physical abuse.

Perhaps she considered disabling his truck in some way, but that would have meant he couldn't get to work and his livelihood might be threatened.

Maybe this one of her silent gifts, making sure our college education was secure.

Like a doctor prescribing painkillers, she doled out his shots and managed his life.

Sometimes late at night, Dad's friends called my mom to get him from the bar because he couldn't drive. Jenise and I would ride with her, often around midnight, shrinking in the back seat under our blanket, trying to stay invisible.

"Going out?" Mom asked.

"Yeah, doing some charity work," I said. "One of the guys on the Goliaths is coming to pick me up. Jenise leave already?"

"She had something she needed to check on at school. One of the Goliaths players is taking you? Isn't that a little unusual?" She asked with raised eyebrows.

I think it is, but I don't know what to do with it yet.

"No, it's just that I was the person who submitted the cheer team plan. We started talking and because his dad was in the military, we hit it off." I took a breath. "He's easy to talk with."

"Uh-huh," she said. "Is he single?"

"Is he single? That's a weird question. Why?"

"Just curious," she said.

"Yes, he's single," I said.

"How old is he?"

"Almost twenty-five," I said.

"And you know this because . . ."

"Because I follow the team, mom. When I look at the press guide it has their birthdays. He's trying to help us with our college applications, that's all. A twenty-five-year-old man isn't interested in seventeen-year-old-girls."

"No?" she probed.

"No, that's disgusting." But not "yuck" like my first response when I talked with Tara.

"Don't you think you have enough to do?" she asked.

Like my father, I self-medicated, but instead of using alcohol, I stuffed my schedule with as many activities as I could to avoid my home life. My medication was to stay busy and away from anything too emotional. By not letting anyone in, I could stay numb and protected.

More hurt? I wasn't about to take any chances. I'd cried enough growing up and my invisible suitcase was heavy and full of anxiety.

"I've got plenty of time in my schedule, Mom. Anyway, it's summer."

1. WHAT ARE SOME OF THE THINGS YOU OR YOUR SIBLINGS DID TO AVOID THE "PROBLEM" IN YOUR HOUSE?

2. WERE YOU EVER ABLE TO TALK ABOUT IT WITH THE ADDICTED PERSON?

3. WERE YOU EVER ABLE TO TALK ABOUT IT WITH YOUR SIBLINGS? PARENTS? RELATIVES?

Please join the conversation at www.PamelaTaeuffer.com and sign up for my newsletter. I promise to keep it intimate, real, and moving.

When you work on a project as I have for four years (a drop in the bucket compared to other authors), you carefully release your first baby.

I am taking a different approach to writing about growing in a family that tried to survive the best we could, an alcoholic father, husband, who sometimes raged, and for many years, all I could remember of him was passed out in his chair or in bed (after the screaming and yelling and sometimes worse subsided).

There are so many books out there about this topic. Just as there are so many love stories offered.

In combing the two, I'm trying to show how love, growing up, relationships, choices of clothes, conversations, who I took as friends -- every day choices -- were affected because of having an abusive alcoholic parent.

Ultimately, it affects the way we trust, the way we participate in having a boyfriend/girlfriend, our marriage, the way we open or stay closed to our children -- all of the intimacy of our lives is difficult.

So that's the story, now here's the issue.

I gave into some bad editing advice with book 1, Shadow Heart. I'm so unhappy with it, that I am rereleasing, and a different ending, the one I wanted to begin with, will be part of book 1.

Like it or not, spelling errors, or not, it will stand. This is the final. Spelling errors are a part of most books these days, especially self-published. I can tell you I've spent many thousands of dollars and had five editors look at the project and each one catches different things and have different opinions.

It's not as easy as it sounds. But with careful diligence and a steady, loving, and hopeful heart, I hope I've resolved most of the book's issues.

It was be offered as an e book free in the next couple of weeks, and Fire Heart will be out with it.

There will be steep cliffhangers in each book because that's what life is when growing up with an alcoholic - nothing but steep cliffs.

We never knew what we were getting ourselves into when we came home or he came home.

Apologies? To those of you who were upset with the first ending, I'm sorry. It's different now, but may not be any more satisfying, but to me, it is.

I have reacted to what the public has consistently told me, and cannot obviously satisfy everyone, but I am finally at peace with the way the series is progressing.

And being at peace with it, hopefully means my heart is flying and will bring you a story you're sometimes angry, sad, and in love with.

For those who couldn't get into it? Sorry, life is like that. Sometimes it clicks, sometimes it doesn't.

I can tell you that I've appreciated everyone's input and everyone who read the book.

And now, the release, coming soon.

What do we do when we face transition?

Transition. It's a word that can strike fear in all ages, and both sexes. When we're young, it can mean facing the decision of an adult. When in our early 20's, it can mean embracing a more mature life and making serious career or relationship choices.

Women of transition -- what does this mean? It begins at 35 or so, when that first lip line or wrinkle or sag in the eyelid becomes noticeable. But beyond the physical stuff, it also means the glow of youth is over, and it's time to bring that glow into our hearts and celebrate who we are, where we're going, and crash through our walls and fears once and for all.

For Nicky Young, a woman coming of age after being raised in a family battling alcoholism, in Shadow Heart, a Contemporary Romance Noel, she already feels like she is 35 going on 50 from all of the abandonment and broken promises she's experienced.

She has trouble grabbing and celebrating her youth, and instead has spent her young years trying to survive and get out of her house, always walking carefully and in soft slippers in her house, focusing completely on pursuing her education. But now a boy has caught her eye who seems to hint at a possible life that could be, if only she'd take a risk.

But risk taking is the ultimate fear.

Taking a risk means stepping out of the shadows of comfort.

Jumping off her cliff, the one she's been holding onto for years, the one we can all get trapped on, means giving up control, and that's the one thing she doesn't want to lose.

No longer can Nicky watch her father's rage, waiting to take them all with its broad stroke of hurt.

No longer can Nicky stand to see her mother withdraw into codependency.

She clings to her childhood friends, the ones she's known, the ones who are safe.

And even as she clings to the past, her future is ripping her hands off the safety of comfort and familiarity, pulling her into a transition. If only she'd embrace it, risk it, take a chance…even if she falls…she might find everything could change.

What can you change by taking a chance?

What does transition mean for you?

Won't you join the conversation? Shadow Heart, a love story, has been re-edited and retold, and is going to be given away free on Amazong 10/4 and 10/5. Fire Heart, Book 2 in the series is out, continuing the story of the slow reveal of intimacy when growing up facing a family battling addiction.

It changes you.

It freezes you.

It makes you afraid.

It forces you to transition.

If you can be vulnerable,

If you can trust,

You can find intimacy.

It's only then, by trusting yourself, your heart opens.

AND THAT, IS A TRANSITION FROM WHICH YOU'LL NEVER BE THE SAME.

Please sign up for our newsletter for freebies and new releases at www.PamelaTaeuffer.com or my Facebook page: Shadow Heart, A Love Story about Being Vulnerable.