One question, then more…

…how it has been to grow up as an Irish-Hispanic… Has it been difficult or have you found acceptance? 

It’s been a struggle at times, more emotional than anything else. To my family I am just me, but on the outside I was often questioned for speaking Spanish and having my maiden name Dougherty. I was judged for being too white to be Hispanic, I don’t have any of the typical Latin curves. And I’ve been judged for being too Hispanic to be Irish, that was more in college and when I would seek others of Irish descent. Working in retail I think was the most eye opening experience, I was a teen and I wanted to look more Irish (whatever the hell that means) and I dyed my hair red, wore green eye contacts, and avoided the sun to become even more fair skinned. At one job we wore our last names as a name badge and when we had major sales, the shoppers that came in looked at me, saw my name, and assumed I couldn’t speak Spanish. Well after they tried to twist my words, I went full Spanish to respond and sometimes they would walk out. I guess mad at me for not being more obvious or embarrassed that I had understood their entire conversation…anyway I digress. I have struggled with identity, but I have since embraced my uniqueness. I am me and I am loving it.
Thank you for msging me and liking my author page.
C. Dougherty, Author

BUY MY BOOK :)

Okay, so an Indie Author has only her self and word of mouth to rely upon. She has to shamelessly self-promote and end up feeling like a seedy salesman trying to push the product from the trunk of her car.

I am always thinking of ways I can sneak my book into conversations, and ways I can boost exposure. I am presently being honored by being the feature poet of Indie Affair, an online magazine available for free on Scribd.

I’ve dedicated a good amount of time to build up my social media brand/self/voice on Instagram, Twitter, Facebook, Tumblr, LinkdIn, Wattpad, WordPress, Goodreads and I am learning about how to expand on Kindle, Amazon, Pinterest, even YouTube or maybe SoundCloud.

I am open to suggestions. Currently my teeny tiny book has five 5-star reviews on Amazon.

Have patience with me, I do not know how to add side bar testimonials and so I am writing this new post. Below you will read from other readers, writers, friends, and total strangers how emotionally charged my book is…please take the time to read. And thank you for being you. anxiety chapbook

Top Customer Reviews

 

5.0 out of 5 starsEmotional

By Mujer con Voz on March 9, 2016

Verified Purchase

The author welcomes us in, behind closed doors, in the tranquility of her own house when the kids are already put to sleep, at the moment when the serenity and the monsters hit her mind & soul. Her poetry has the ability to trap you, using themes that seem so ordinary, and somehow she changes them to something meaningful, in a way that we can all connect. We often see the writer, letting herself free, confessing, displaying her universe of words, making us feel her suffering. C. Dougherty is the light in the lunar eclipses of modern poetry, she will poison you with real sentiments and leave you hungry for more. She heals us from inside out, she drowns us in thoughts, and we change places. We are left bleeding on the page with her amazing creativity, our hearts are left wide open to finally feel.

By Amazon Customer on March 26, 2016

Verified Purchase

Cynthia is one of my favorite poets on Instagram so it’s no surprise that I would enjoy her book. She has definitely left her heart within these pages here. A painfully heartfelt collection of words artfully laid out in poetry. A must-buy book.

By D. West on April 4, 2016

Bleeding on the page highlights an emotional landmark, a closure if you will. A look into the near past, while the author reflects on her present circumstances with candor, and a light heart; there is mention of sadness more as an afterthought than a bitter reality, thus enabling the journey to advance forward. Readers will fall in love with the sincere qualities in C. Dougherty’s writing.

By John Doe on March 28, 2016

The poems are simple in the way they are written but tell a tale. The poems are clearly coming from the heart of a restless soul. Beautifully written poems

By kathy on March 26, 2016

Verified Purchase

Hauntingly beautiful book. I truly felt every line that the author wrote… looking forward to more of her work. Her poems are amazing!

15-min Writing Prompts

I’ve been involved in this online writing group invited & created by Nancy Chase, a fellow author. It’s done me a world of good. I have had an opportunity to break out of my comfort zone and try to expand my experience with prose writing.

Actually by taking part in the 15 minutes free writing exercises I’ve begun to develop a new work in progress. This novella, or maybe novel, is growing every chance I get to sit down and focus. I have started to add more depth to the characters and I am trying to enhance my comprehension of seamless dialogue. But I digress. I wanted to share with you the prompts from the past three months.

If you are like me, and you want to break from the mold and escape the comfort of one genre or one style of writing then join in. I thankfully now have a journal full of short stories, generally 500-1000 words long. I can’t wait for the summer, when I am away from my day job as a teacher, to be able to take apart, revise, edit, and further develop some of my favorites.

Here is the month of January:

1.      Every time I saw it
2.      Did you tell them about me?
3.      They were both waiting
4.      Even before they arrived
5.      A traitorous thought
6.      Just don’t ask about
7.      Enough was enough
8.      Did you get into much trouble?
9.      So far he had won nothing at all
10.     Will you forget about me?
11.     Instead, she apologized
12.     He’d done it before
13.     Is it true?
14.     I still haven’t told her
15.     Nothing’s definite
16.     Let’s go upstairs
17.     The room was filled with
18.     What’s wrong with you
19.     That was the night when
20.     A bad day
21.     The new girl
22.     It wasn’t his fault
23.     It won’t happen again
24.     If you think you can help
25.     A terrible secret
26.     She didn’t mind them staring
27.     He didn’t know how to stop
28.     It’s worse when they’re nice
29.     You don’t believe me anyway
30.     We’d been talking about it for years
31.     After midnight

This is the month of prompts for February…
1.      I should have listened to him
2.      Just tell me the truth
3.      He’s not clever like you
4.      I told myself I didn’t care
5.      I should have taught you better
6.      She beckoned with a bony hand
7.      But what else could I do?
8.      No one knows for sure
9.      If you believe the rumor
10.     Where did you get it?
11.     Remember your promise
12.     He didn’t want to go
13.     Hold out your hand
14.     We should have been happy
15.     It’s better to know, isn’t it
16.     But nobody came
17.     It’s such a waste of talent
18.     I was beginning to worry
19.     I was twelve when my mother was taken
20.     There was an awful moment of silence
21.     It is not a matter of choice
22.     She was angry but she did not speak
23.     The little boy was the big dog
24.     Two years later, when he had almost forgotten
25.     That was the last I saw of them
26.     Far below, the lake grew dark
27.     It was such hard work, though
28.     It made the long days seem less empty
29.     Despite the cold and the darkness

My favorite, the month of March (aka also my bday month 3/29)…
1.      Why can’t we go?
2.      One he loved and the other he hated
3.      Hours passed and she didn’t return
4.      No one came to my rescue
5.      I had heard of it before
6.      He rarely spoke
7.      A man hurried past us
8.      I heard the front door bang shut
9.      Sometimes in my dreams
10.     That was a fear she understood
11.     He was not at all handsome, but
12.     I had never even been kissed
13.     She was right on both counts
14.     Does it really work
15.     Would you like me to show you
16.     It was easier Thai expected
17.     I can’t trust you
18.     No one could talk of anything else
19.     Wouldn’t you have done the same?
20.     He’d already stayed far too long
21.     That’s all I ever wanted
22.     They all laughed, every single one of them
23.     You can do anything
24.     They gave him a week
25.     There will have to be an inquiry
26.     The handwriting was unfamiliar
27.     It was still raining when he arrived
28.     He heard a footstep behind him
29.     We had it all arranged
30.     What do you do when a dream has come true?
31.     An argument in the corridor

Use them at your leisure and if you are so inclined, let me know. I will share a few of mine as the days go by.

SIDENOTE: (aka shameless self-promotion)

I have been a little silent on social media as of late, but that is only because I am trying to pull back and work on my word count. I am following the habit of some committed writers in my small writing pack. Check out my works on Wattpad: @CDougherty83 , on Instagram: @Poetry_Goddess88 , and on Tumblr: @ElusivePub .

Follow me on Facebook, stop by and see C. Dougherty, Author Page

Available on Amazon, my poetry book:img_0245
“Bleeding on the Page: My Soul Exposed” by C. Dougherty

I am a jester, where is my hat?

The mind is a wonderful, terrible thing. I often get lost in the maze of my thoughts, and I’ve mentioned this before. There is a different mask I don dependent upon the audience at hand. I often find myself in awkward situations where I feel lost and ill at ease, introvert tendencies beg to shy away from the limelight.

I either withdraw completely of feel the need to ham it up. I rarely ham it up, I’m not all that good at it. I have great one liners, but that doesn’t suit the hour long conversations around a dinner or at a birthday party. You can’t exactly walk away when you have to keep an eye on your kid, who happens to be oblivious to your discomfort. A child is the most demanding audience of all.

So here I am. I am a jester, where is my hat?

If I cannot run it on, if i cannot go live and keep the masses entertained then I close in on myself. I withdraw to the background amidst the crowd and blend into the woodwork. I reiterate, I am a self proclaimed extroverted introvert.

Life does demand social interaction. A writer needs to extend outside their comfort bubble and “phone home” from time to time. An independent writer has to do this way more often.

As a mother, I try not to be anti-social towards the parents of the children who co-exist with mine. I have mastered the art of non-verbal conversation. I nod, blink, shrug, and a host of other physical and facial cues to keep the dialogue going. Oftentimes the other adults are so involved in their own discussion, they don’t notice that I am not engaged. It exhausts me too much to involve myself. I spend all day reacting, guiding, leading, performing during my regular day job.

My children, my biologically born babies, understand that I need to decompress for at least fifteen minutes when I get home from work. Mommy needs quiet time. However, these little minions also help me pull out of my own chaotic mind. I can get lost inside, to the point where I have to remind myself to blink. Blink. Think. Blink.

It can be exhausting, and at the end of every day I have more trouble turning off my mind than my body. It makes for some interesting, colorful, emotional, at times turbulent, dreams. My poor husband often becomes my soundboard for ideas and although he doesn’t always follow, he doe listen. At times he reminds me that whatever makes sense in my mind to me, sometimes needs a little more explanation out here to others who don’t think like me.

He helps me keep my feet on the ground, and a smile on my face. Writing is what soothes me; it allows me to unravel the threads of thoughts that try to smother and overwhelm me. At the end of the work day, mother day/night, and wife life I am still me. I get to remove the hat, and just sink into my bed with a journal, pen, and some tea. I reflect on the moments with eyes wide open and I try to paint a canvas with letters instead of colors. My words, my poems, my ramblings are my gallery art pieces.

I am imperfectly perfect.

It was enough…

(fiction)

Every day this little piece of shriveled manhood threw taunts in her direction. His flaccid face and adult acne were not abrasive, it was his lack of manners and decorum. Who comes to the royal kingdom and insults the royal court? Apparently he considered himself immune, that or he loved the taste of foot. Rancid thoughts clouded his lackluster eyes, and he still saw his past visage in gleaming surfaces and mirror reflections. A man whose vanity was thick enough to choke on. She prayed he would choke.

Verbal waste spewed forth from his lips around the dinner table, and everyone laughed with false cheer. She fumed in silence, for decorum was a mantle all too heavy upon her shoulders. She longed for the day she could toss manners aside and throttle his fleshy neck with two hands. She would need two hands to encompass the circumference of that tree trunk.

Violence was a play all too familiar in her thoughts whenever she was in his presence. Him along with all his twittering sycophants were not yet banned from the castle. The queen turned a blind eye, so long as the discussion of bylaws occurred and the parchment was filled with the appropriate information. Once she ascended on the throne, she would reenact her favorite scenes of the Red Queen.

A new parliament was in order, time to clean out the cobwebs and burn off the pestilence that clung to the seats of those hypocrites. For the moment, she breathed. She focused on breathing. Him and his leeches would not force her to reduce herself. A moment of turmoil is worth it. She could not jeopardize her opportunity. She could not risk her moral ground.

Oh the historians were always biased when reporting the on goings of the knights at the round table. Once again she ran her fingertips across the scars on the surface of her section. The wood was marred with knife wounds and sword markings. This was not a room for intellectual discourse alone. The anger roiling in her stomach was proof of that. If her sword was at her side, a weighted length of fine steel and iron. That weight would fly despite her delicate wrist. Her father taught her well. The present queen, so insignificant she had not yet garnered a title, would only sit another year. Then, she would make her father proud and become the Silver Queen.

She would become a queen of truth and justice. Lies must be purged from the kingdom. Her sword would be her symbol, her weapon, and her strength. This jester, a disgusting soul on the velvet seat to her right, would be the first to go.

It was enough.

My Opinions, my ramblings: Social Media

I sometimes feel over extended on all the social media platforms I am attempting to keep updated. I have fallen in love with the platform for Instagram, it has been a great tool for sharing my poetry and adding to those who enjoy reading my work. I’ve also come into contact with a variety of writers, artists, readers, and more. Instagram was where I first dipped my toes into intrepid waters.

It has become the central focus, but I have also expanded into Tumblr, Twitter, Goodreads, BookBub, Amazon, Google+, LinkdIn, Pinterest, Facebook, Wattpad, and here WordPress. I’ve even attempted Scribd, Etsy, Sell on Etsy, and Kindle.

Yes I know, it is a lot. I look more at my phone screen throughout the day than I should. I’ve thought about pulling back, but I hesitate. I am a tiny fish in a massive, whirling vortex of stimuli and information. I am my own advocate, and I want to put my name out there. I want my writings to be in the minds, hands, and screens of others. I am a self proclaimed extroverted introvert. I want to reach out to others who might connect emotionally to both my prose and poetry.

And I am not the first, nor will I be the last, who struggles with the poisonous addiction to social media and apps. I try to conscientiously put down the phone in social situations, so that I still make direct eye contact with my friends, family and acquaintances. If I am lost in the glow from my handheld screen, I try to remember to look up and appreciate the silent company of my loved ones. Even sitting outside while I contemplate my next post, tweet, photo, or blurb makes a world of difference. The sky is still above us, and the ground is still beneath us. We do not exist in a 3×4 inch technological device.

Today’s world does demand some sort of social media interaction in order to maintain contact with friends from across the lands. And in this hustle and bustle life style, its easier to post an update that can be simultaneously seen by a crown of family and friends.

As a independent author and creative soul, that cannot yet cash in a mega check, free promotions on social media are too tempting. For now, I will continue to scale the landscape of internet, never forgetting that an outernet exists.

Musings inside the maze…

I’ve been lost in the world of plot development and research. Its becoming difficult to focus on daily tasks that seem more mundane, my mind wanders to the importance of what my main character is going through in the last chapter. Haven’t settled on a name, but here’s a peek:

She truly hated being a siren amongst the enemy.

She is being born, and I am learning who she is. I wonder what will happen to those around her who seem to be both friend and foe. I am trying hard to find balance in my life for the creative flow of my mind and the menial tasks that must be accomplished in order to maintain my status as a healthy, productive adult. I feel at times as if I am living two lives.

My fiction world of creation, prose, and poetry is one. Then there’s my daily life of being mom, wife, daughter, sister, friend, teacher, and more. I am proud to say that I have almost 10k words written for my current project, and I am already 2k words into another side project. As always I have my almost daily poetry and with each piece I write, type, read, sing, I feel more alive. If only I could win the lottery so that I can live my life as a writer.

Some day if I am diligent, focused, and driven I hope to live off the income from my works. One day…with every word I feel as if I’m closer to my dream. I’m optimistic, I just want to be careful and not become delusional. Love you all for following me here, on Instagram (poetry_goddess88), on Twitter, on Tumblr and more. Thank you for being you.

Feel free to peruse my writings here and leave comments and feedback.

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