Pride V.S. Fear

Sometimes I find myself in the field behind my house. Laying among the clovers and blades of fresh cut grass. My thoughts revolve around my life. The things I have done and the things I want to do. There are two overriding emotions at war within me.

Pride in all that I have done and the accomplishments I have made. Fear of failure and stumbling on the boulders of life.

The pale blue sky calm me. Chirping birds, and barking dogs are like music. The pride is fed by the successful completion of a task or challenge. The fear is fed by the expectations of my family, my own need to meet their expectation, and my wish to leave a mark on this world.

I have been going through this cycle of interviews, sending out job applications, working, writing, editing, blogging, babysitting, and constantly evaluating the path I have opted to take.

Risk is this memorizing thing. It draws me in like a moth to a flame. As a child I was withdrawn. I liked being in my own head and reading about philosophy, history, emotions, and mythology.

I loved to think about what adulthood would look and feel like. How I would work, pay my bills, date, and live the single life before settling into a successful marriage.

When you are a kid you do not think about the seconds, minutes, days, weeks, months, and years of struggle and failure. You don't think about the stress of taking a risk. Putting yourself out there and failing.

Now I have left the welcome bosom of school to enter the world of reality and I miss school. Not necessarily the the debt or the hair pulling exams. I miss learning. Working with people not concerned with money, but about the way they could impact the world. Fiction is often better then reality. (Hmm, Right?!). 

Reality this week was beautiful, frustrating, scary, depressing, and barely like anything I planned or envisioned for my future. Next week will be the same. And the week after that. And the week after that week. And for the rest of my life the plans I make are little more then a cold comfort.

But I will keep dreaming, writing, and planning. I will keep trying, failing, succeeding. I will do it because giving up is easy and as I stated before. Meeting the challenges I set for myself and successfully passing my goals feeds my pride. It needs to be stronger then my fear.

Best Wishes,

Jen A. Durand, Founder of Durand Publishing

P.S I have decided to giveaway free copies of one of my titles available on Kindle, Kobo, and Nook. 

In order for a reader to qualify. The reader must join my mailing list on my website www.DurandPublishing.net and leave a review on either Barnes & Noble, Kobo, or Amazon. Remember Reviewing is Caring. 😘 

Completed Works:

The Secrets, Lies, and Betrayal Series:

Wintr’s Homecoming: Secrets

Jaguar Nights: Lies

Pearl Moon: Betrayal

Shadowy Lights: Fear

Cold Sun: Obsession

The Virgins Club:

The Planner

The Fixer

Lipstick Diaries

Shy Meets Bold

Wicked Meets Bad Boy

The Prince’s Heart

Things Left Unsaid

Closing The Deal

The Young and The Powerful

Witch’s Reflection

Free Giveaway

Hi All,

I have decided to giveaway free copies of one of my titles available on Kindle, Kobo, and Nook. 

In order for a reader to qualify. The reader must join my mailing list on my website www.DurandPublishing.net and leave a review on either Barnes & Noble, Kobo, or Amazon.

Best Wishes,

Jen A. Durand, Founder of Durand Publishing

P.S Remember Reviewing is Caring. 😘 

Fiction Is Essentially My Therapy

When I am writing or reading a story. I am dropped into this world or this life with some stark differences from my reality. When I am reading I am this silent observer or the receiver of this barrage of sensations and emotions. When I am writing I am the creator of a world where anything can happen and often does. Most of my readers will notice that my stories tend to have common themes. Shared connections.

One of the themes is family. Growing up and even now in my adult life, family is the corner stone of everything that I do. I was taught to honor my parents. Care for and look after my siblings. Work towards a future with the ability to sustain and provide for children.

My childhood was not an easy one. My parents divorced. My father was unfaithful and my mother was bitter. They were the two biggest forces in my life and my childhood was marred by their inability to at the very least immunize their children from the ensuing war.

I love my parents separately. Together they generally combust, unless in public, unable to engage in the simplest of conversations without digs and barely camouflaged anger.

My mother has never really let go of her hurt. Fifteen years later she is still the scorned woman.  A fact she is loathed to admit, but is unable to deny. 

Intelligent, caring, and completely driven by the success of her children. My mother is a force of nature with only two or three blindsides. Most of them revolving around her romantic entanglements.

When I write about Mothers I usually take the qualities I love most about my mother. Her ability to throw a meal together out of nothing. Her love of children and her traditional caribbean influence. My stories reflect her push for her children, not only to succeed, but to start pushing out those grandchildren she thought would at least come from the oldest of her brood by now.

More often then not the mothers in my stories are fierce, independent, and a source of comic relief.

I also explore the qualities I do not love so much about my mother. Her stagnation when it to the end of her marriage and her anger in the way it ended.

In Wintr's Homecoming, readers are introduced to Jinx Wintr. The not quite orphan. Her father was in the shoulder's in which their family stood. He had a bond not only with his wife, but also with the child. When he dies, Jinx's mother falls into this trap of the Mate bond and becomes this despondent shell of a woman. Leaving her daughter to deal with feelings of abandonment and searching for a new family while avoiding such things like romantic love. Jinx saw what love did to her once vibrant mother and when confronted with her own mate seeks to avoid the pain of such loss by running away from it.

When I write about Fathers I also focus on the qualities I admire in my father. His conviction, boisterous personality, and warmth. I was a daddy's girl for most of my life even after the divorce and love my father in spite of what I consider to be personal failures on his part. The fathers in my story can fall on two spectrums even within one story.

Take for instance, Prince's Heart. Vashti is the illegitimate daughter of a King and spent most of her life as a slave. Her father is this cold hearted dictator. He does not care for his children but focuses on his own wants and needs. He offers her freedom by serving her to his allies as a prize in exchange for continued peace and protection.

The flip to this is King Cyrus. Vashti's father in law. He is this large war forged King. He has the love and respect of his children and shows her the qualities of a father she'd never experienced in her own life. Cyrus is there for his children and while he may not be the best husband, the family bond is a strong one.

My father continued to see the woman he cheated on my mother with. They have a daughter together and live in the same house. She and I have a contentious relationship at best. Not because she was the "Mistress" or because I consider her to be the reason why my parent's relationship failed. But because she as a woman embodies all of the traits I dislike in other woman.

We have a history of actions taken on both sides that have culminated into a situation in which it is best if we do not acknowledge each other. She is not my stepmother or stepparent. She is, in my mind, one of my father's failing. Their continued relationship has and probably will continue to confound me until the end of time.

When I write, this is also explored in my stories in shorter snippets. In Prince's Heart, Vashti shares stories of how she was treated by her own stepmother. 

In Cold Sun, Talia Gage is on reincarnated life number four. Her previous lives were marred by murder and betrayal. In her second life she was killed by her father's second wife. Driven by jealousy and greed, she killed Talia in an effort to elevate the standing of her own child.

Writing for me is not only an expression valve, but also a way of exploring my own feelings. It is why writing is such a personal thing for me. I am reveling parts of my soul and trying to create reality within the fiction. Order in the center of Chaos.

The characters I create are embodiments of what is around me. The good, bad and okay is embedded in the scenes and dialogue.

Fiction Is Essentially My Therapy Video

Completed Works:

The Secrets, Lies, and Betrayal Series:

Wintr’s Homecoming: Secrets

Jaguar Nights: Lies

Pearl Moon: Betrayal

Shadowy Lights: Fear

Cold Sun: Obsession

The Virgins Club:

The Planner

The Fixer

Lipstick Diaries

Shy Meets Bold

Wicked Meets Bad Boy

The Prince’s Heart

Things Left Unsaid

Closing The Deal

The Young and The Powerful

Witch’s Reflection

I Am A Black Woman

        I have four siblings. Three sisters and a brother. A father, mother, numerous aunts and uncles. I have the type of family where nothing is perfect but the love is like steel. I was taught from a very young age to value family because even if I lose everything tomorrow. All I will have left is my family.

        We are diverse in personality, opinions, economic status, and education goals. But we are the same in that our skin is always black. We go to sleep black and we wake up black. Our lives are dedicated to living peacefully and setting examples for future generations.

        Today I woke to find streaming on my newsfeed more stories of violence and death. I woke up to hear that seven children will never see there father again. Four children, states away, also lost their father just days ago.

        I teared up because i was not shocked by the news. Surprised that these men were shot. It seems like a weekly occurrence. We hear about the treatment disparity for people of color. The stereotypes they are subjected to in their interaction with the police and with the justice system as a whole.

        We read stories in which the police, our protectors, are able to disarm and deescalate situations with suspects. How arrest are made daily without the use of deadly force. We read stories in which judges sentence men of color to years in prison for crimes men of traditionally european descent only get months.

        I live a life of love and service. My motivation each day is to wake up and contribute to the world in some positive way. I do this through my writing, through my actions, through the way I interact with people.

        Why? Because when I step through the doors of my home I step out into a world filled with preconceived notions about me.

        Strangers have no idea who I am and what I am. They only see the clothes I wear and the color of my skin. Based off of this they reach conclusions perpetuated by whats portrayed on television and in movies.

        For some reason initially before I speak they do not see a well educated soft spoken woman with drive and  an easy going personality. Before I open my mouth most people expect for me to be loud and brash. To speak in ebonics and be angry.

        I live in a world where those with the same skin as me are looked down upon and told that they are less then. As a black woman I am always aware of the danger I could find myself in by making the wrong decision. I know there is a system set in place meant to keep me from utilizing my full rights are a human being.

        This is not paranoia, but acknowledgement of the world I live in. It is not a safe one or a fair one, but it is one in which people of every ethnicity should feel properly protected.

        I have four siblings. Three sisters I would go to hell and back for. A brother I would give my life for. We were raised by two naturalized citizens and told constantly to reach for the stars through education. "The way to succeed in this life is to get an education, work hard, pay your bills, and respect the law."

        Education cannot stop bullets. Working hard cannot stop bullets. Paying your bills and respecting the law will not stop bullets. Respect does not mean submission.

        Respect by definition is a feeling of deep admiration for someone or something elicited by their abilities, qualities, or achievements. Submission is the action or fact of accepting or yielding to a superior force or to the will or authority of another person.

        I have respect for police officers who wake up on a daily basis and do their job with responsibility and loyalty to the community they are tasked with policing. I have respect for the police officers who understand that as arbitrators of the law, they are also responsible for following those laws as well as enforcing them.

        I do not submit that the police have an automatic authority over me. Not when I have not broken any law. Not when I as a citizen have the right to a trial and am innocent until proven guilty. It seems that when you have the skin color I have all to often the police officer is not just the arresting officer. He is also the judge, jury, and sentencer.

        This country that I love is not following the words and ideals it was built upon. All the people on its shores are are not free from persecution. Its people are not free to live and chase their dreams. Instead minorities are constantly told to assimilate and cede parts of their identities in the hopes they can live in peace with the majority.

        I do not write these words to bash, but to say I am a black woman. I am a daughter. I am a sister. A Godmother. I am human and one day I hope to be able to add Aunt, Mother, and Wife to that list. I am black, but I am not intrinsically violent. I love and yes sometimes I get angry. But that does not make me a monster or something to be feared. That makes me human. As a human being I have a right to leave my home and return home safely at the end of the day.

        I have a family and they are human beings. Those men and women also have a right to life and to live through an interaction with the police. Why does it seem like some find that concept difficult to accept? Why do some feel as if that is a point to be argued? As if life is something so fluid it can be poured down the drain by anyone?

Shedding the Tomboy or Maybe embracing the woman?

Growing up I loved shorts, jeans, tee shirts, and sneakers. Combs were the bane of my existence, and makeup was something my mom put on when she was trying to impress. My looks were secondary to everything. I cared more about the thoughts in my head and the books I carried around like a security blanket. My mother often despaired and was often exasperated by my refusal to play the role of an ordinary girl. My decision to attend my senior prom spurred her into taking me shopping immediately.

When I went to college my mother saw the state of my closet and went shopping. Unable to allow me, her daughter, to wear a series of graphic print tee shirts and the same five pairs of jeans. I was never the girl who cared about the brands, the names, the style I wore. It just was not something I thought needed that much thought.

Insecurity did not strike me until I was older. I started to question myself and the way I presented myself only when I went to law school. There I was, this girl who had spent her life working towards a goal, and not knowing what to do with herself now that she achieved it. I wasn't prepared for quiet that level of adulthood. The thing I feel that people do not say enough is that there is not specific moment when you are in possession of all the answers.

That first year I met people who were at the same level at me, while also being light years ahead of me. Most of them had lived their lives before attending school. They had worked in the public and the private sector. Nothing they did to me, made me question myself, but being there. Listening to them talk about their travels, their past lives as workers or business owners, and seeing how confident they were on the path they were taking made me stumble.

I wasn't in Kansas anymore. I was in the big leagues, and thinking I was still in the stands being a spectator. At what should have been the confirmation of my ability to succeed, I was suddenly looking in the mirror and not seeing someone who was enough... Pretty enough. Thin enough. Lady enough.

I started taking more care with the clothes that I wore and leaned to really apply makeup. I did more with my hair then just combing it into a crown braid. I started and limited the time I spend wearing heels. I started smiling less and feeling less comfortable in my own body. I was finally becoming the woman my mother wanted to be and losing the part of myself who cared little about what others thought. And just enjoyed being me.

Eventually maintaining the superficial façade of confidence wore on me and I started to crave for the carefree way I lived before. So I made a change. Something I am typically resistant to, but otherwise happy to do when it meant I could go back to not having to spend hours in front of a mirror. Or worrying about whether I packed my pressed powder.

I stopped looking at other woman and thinking that I should be like them. I stopped comparing myself to those around me who looked like they stepped out of a magazine. I started doing what was fun again. Wearing the clothes I found to be comfortable and just putting a dash of color on my lips. I realized that the me I liked the most, was the me who laughed because she remembered the time she fell on her ass while heading to class. Or the time she slid down a dirt hill after the perfect first day of her sophomore year of high school, lowering her cool cred by at least five points.

Laughing Out Loud

Growing up my mother used to complain how she would here me "Heheing" in my room late at night. She said she always knew when i was up because I could never contain my mirth. I used to her she should just enjoy having a happy child. The older I get, the more I change. My opinions diverge from that of my parents and the more I learn. I still laugh late at night. Sometimes because of a funny show or movie. Sometimes because of a good line in a book.

Sometimes, and this is an admission that could lead to speculations of insanity, I laugh at the random memories that I remember out of nowhere. I have recently been told that I have a tendency to have a default smiling face. Which came as a surprise to me because I always thought I switched between "Resting Bitch" face and "Pure Exhaustion" face.

Then I thought about if some more. I grew up with a lot of love but also a lot of chaos. Laughter was my way of coping. I tend to only keep good things in my life and leave the bad on the curbside. My father likes to call it avoidance. I like to call it taking a hardline.

For me, my happiness is paramount to anything else. Sacrificing it for another is not an option, because without it there is only a downward spiral. This means that I watch the people I allow into my life. I pay attention to the things they say about others and the way they treat others. It is not coming from a place of judgment, but from a place of awareness that not everyone is looking out for your best interest. But people are always good about telling you who and what they are. It is your job to see it and decide it if this is the type of person you want in your life.

The way I see it. It is like being a conscious consumer. Most people pay a lot of attention to what they buy and how much they spend. The more money involved, the more thought they put into whether they want it, if the quality is worth the price tag, and the enjoyment they would derive from it. Why wouldn't you put the same amount of thought into the time you invest in relationships? Time is precious and finite. I prefer to spend it doing things I enjoy with people who I enjoy. *And hopefully they enjoy me as well. Lol! ;)

Remember the giveaway of free copies of "The Prince's Heart" Available on Kindle and Nook. In order for a reader to qualify. The contestant must sign up for my monthly newsletter, follow me @Jinxs_Corner on twitter, and leave a review for any one of the titles listed below on either Amazon.com or BarnesandNoble.com. The Giveaway will end on September 14, 2016 at 9 pm eastern time zone. Only Four books will be awarded.

Building Yourself and Your Business

Quite by nature my words were the only way I could express myself. I would write to relieve sadness, stress, anger. I would read to be happy, to laugh, and to forget reality. I used to tell anyone who would listen that my dream was to get a book deal and make a million dollars. As I grew older I continued to write, but stopped being outspoken about getting published. I lost some of my vision and turned towards a more practical future. Raised by working class parents who worked to live and survive, not to pursue their dreams. I began to internalize this belief that "dreams" are for others. For those with the money and the time to pursue them. I had to work to provide for my family and ensure our survival.

So I went to college and I got my Bachelor of Science. I worked hard and went to law school. Received my Juris Doctorate. During those years I still wrote, but they were saved files on multiple thumb drives just collecting dust. I told myself that those stories were not good enough for mass consumption. That writing fiction not grounded in the enslavement of people with my skin color would not secure any future.

Then one day after a particularly bad week I finished this story. Wintr's Homecoming. It is a paranormal fiction romance about a plus size girl with brown skin and a loud personality finding love with a man from her past. The passion I felt about this book and the excitement I felt when I thought about it caused me to act out of character. I sent the story to a friend. In the past I attempted to get some stories out into the world through traditional publishing, but I was met with rejection. Not unusual for anyone seeking to publish in this literary world.

Wintr's Homecoming was like this baby I could not put to the side. So I started to look into self-publishing. I thought about the material I wanted to put out into the world and the books I wish I had more access to when I was younger. I started looking at the books that I read and came to the conclusion that waiting for others to pick up the mantel and write books that represented brown girls, teens, and woman in more then only the typical stereotypical light.

Since the day we start reading, all of us are introduced to the typical literary structure of this classic european character, who drives the story forward. They go on adventures and are usually accompanied by side kicks, often of the minority persuasion, who support them in achieving their goals. This is reinforced by book after book and unless you are raised in a socially conscious home or attend a socially conscious school readers are indoctrinated into this world were minorities are only viewed as supporting cast for the other.

When we did read books about people with my skin color it spoke about the disenfranchisement of the blacks. A worthy subject to be sure but it does not hold the same appeal as books like "The Hunger Games, Twilight, and other young adult books novels based on adventure, romance, and action. How is it that even in books where the author is creating characters whom challenge the establishment, whites are the savor of all. This is not to say I do not read and love those books. Because I do. What I am saying is that would appreciate some diversity. If I were not always required to relate and idolize a pale skinned woman or man for heroic tendencies.

I in no way mean for this to be a condemnation but as a letter to writers with a platform to consider. Why the greek tycoon falls for the blond, red head, or brunette? Why are their so many descriptions for pale skin and a finite number of descriptions for brown. I want a world when I walk into a library, coffee shop, or book store and I see people of all creeds reading fictional stories driven forward by main character's of any race.

It is happening, but it is not happening fast enough. Companies are not the risk takers and innovator's they used to be. They are driven by dollar and rarely consider stepping outside of their comfort levels to attempt bringing social change if there is not a recognizable and definitive commercial gain to be had. I started Durand Publishing because I wanted a platform for myself but also because I have reverted back to childhood in a way because I am now once again willing to take a risk. I want to grow this company into something where our customer bases is as diverse as the world we live in and our characters help to connect racial lines in a new way.

Completed Works

The Secrets, Lies, and Betrayal Series:

Wintr’s Homecoming: Secrets

Jaguar Nights: Lies

Pearl Moon: Betrayal

Shadowy Lights: Fear

Cold Sun: Obsession

The Virgins Club:

The Planner

The Fixer

Lipstick Diaries

Shy Meets Bold

The Prince’s Heart

The Young and The Powerful

Witch’s Reflection