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lollercakesff · 6 years ago

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soft touch

chapter six | ao3 pairing: shirbert rating: mature wordcount: 3,105

The December air slips through the door of the cafe and skitters across my skin, chilling me as I sip at my tea and make notes on some of the files I’ve brought with me. I’ve tucked myself into the corner table in an effort to get some real work done before the day is out, if only to have time to make my house presentable to welcome Bash and Mary and their three children for the holidays.

Christmas had come upon me before I even realized, the cooler temperatures and a flu bug going around compounding my workload so that I barely had time to eat, let alone think about how the people around me were doing. How Anne was doing.

Though we saw each other more regularly now - she’d admitted she’d stopped trying to avoid me as of late - there was still a tightness in the way she held herself back when she was near me. I tried not to notice, tried to keep my thoughts from getting caught up in it, but it was a challenge I had to concede. She was an enigma now, reserved and quiet, prone to quick escapes and terrified of a touch from anyone but Susan.

That was the hardest part for me to wrap my head around. Every time I moved in a way that signaled I intended to do more than the briefest contact she flinched away, recoiling to a distance that was impossible to miss. I couldn’t blame her - it was improper for me to even try - but old habits were hard to break, even after all this time. The only time I was permitted to really get close was during our check-ups after her illness and even those were moments where I was Doctor Blythe and nothing else.

I worked hard not to take it personally, to keep my hands tucked in my pockets and in a place where I wouldn’t be tempted, but sometimes it was hard to stop myself from trying to comfort her, especially on evenings after school where she stopped by the surgery simply to sit in silence and wait for Susan to finish the weekly shopping.

Those instances were always the most vexing. She would knock on the door lightly, almost as if she was hoping I wouldn’t hear and then proceed to sit quietly in the waiting room as I worked on paperwork.

One evening I made the mistake of asking her about it, hoping to understand why she chose to sit with me rather than shop with Susan, or even be at home. Turning to me with the most broken look I’d ever seen cross her face, she sighed and got to her feet.

“I prefer not to be alone, is all,” she’d replied and left without a goodbye to head back into the street.

I hadn’t dared ask her more after that, simply letting her keep company with me when I was in the office and giving her the space to be at peace whenever I could. It was an odd arrangement, I knew, but I couldn’t turn her away after I everything I’d learned. If she found safe harbour in the surgery then I would let her have it without question. I could do that for her.

Sighing, I look down at my notes and huff out a breath. The words were scattered and slanted and my eyes hurt from focusing on the pages for the last few hours.

“More tea,” I murmur, recognizing the solution before covering up the pages and moving to slide my chair back.

“May I sit with you?” Anne’s quiet voice says over my shoulder, my gaze snapping up to where she holds two cups of tea in her hands. I nod and watch as she settles down across from me, her face nipped red from the cold. “This is for you,” she adds and moves the teacup towards me quickly, sighing when the tea slips over the edge and onto the table.

“Thanks,” I reply and move my papers out of the way, tucking them in my folders and looking towards her with a small smile. “How are you today, Miss Wright?”

She shrugs and lifts her tea to her lips, her eyes dropping to the table. “Well enough, I suppose.”

“I’m glad to hear it. I guess the school semester is almost out? Are you looking forward to the break?” I ask as an attempt to bring her out of the shell she typically hides in in public now.

“Yes - it finished up yesterday. I’ll miss it but I am looking forward to a few quiet days to read by the fire, I will admit,” she adds with a low chuckle. The sound of it brings a smile to my mouth and I relish it for a moment. She didn’t laugh often and whenever I managed to get it out of her it made my heart swell with pride.

“Glad to hear that. I’ve heard good things from the students in the area which is high praise since they’re notoriously hard to please,” I offer and settle in for what I hope will be a conversation that sets our regular silence aside. “Do you have any plans for the break?”

She shifts in her chair and looks at the table. “Susan has invited me to her daughter’s home with her for a week but I don’t want to impose on them. I think I’ll just take the time to do some lesson planning and enjoy the peace and quiet.”

Her words catch me by surprise and before I realize it my mouth is moving with an offer I won’t take back. “Why don’t you spend Christmas with us? Bash and Mary are coming for the holidays, I’m sure they’d love to see you again.”

Sitting before me her shoulders tighten and she freezes, like a deer caught out early in a field. The colouring in her cheeks pales and she blinks, looking stricken.

“Do they know I’m here?” She breathes, her chest rising and falling quickly. I see the panic rise in her and I try cut it off before it starts, sitting up straighter and looking at her head on.

“No - nobody does. Cordelia…” I wish I could reach for her. Wish I could say her real name and bring her back from the edge but know that it would do more harm than good.

“Are you sure?” It comes out cracking before she exhales forcefully, shaking her head and looking away. I can practically see herself pulling back from the anxiety that’s clouding her reaction.

“One hundred percent. I only offered because I know you hate to be alone and I don’t - I can’t bear to think of you alone on Christmas,” I whisper so that only she can hear, my hand sliding across the table with my palm up signalling that I’m here if she wants my comfort. Her hand shifts from the teacup and her fingers graze across mine, the lightest touch giving me hope.

“Will you talk to them before - before I come? Will you explain? I couldn’t… I mean I don’t want to ruin - “

“You wouldn’t ruin anything, ever, I promise. They’ve missed you all these years. And I can discuss it with them when they get here so they understand why - why you’re you now.” I stumble over how to talk about her secrets without giving anything away. Though Mrs Lynde is far away back in Avonlea, I know there are others in this small town who would feed on a good story just the way she had while we were growing up and I was determined not to let that happen.

“I don’t know,” she says quietly after a moment, withdrawing her hands into her lap and leaving me reaching for her. Though I want to draw back with the rejection I force myself to stay open to her, desperate for her to see that I’m not hurt by what she needs from me, or even by what she doesn’t.

“Well, we’ll set a place for you anyways. We will eat at four and then attend the service that evening. Bash always loves the caroling part even though he can’t sing at all.” She laughs at that, relaxing more with each mention of Bash and my family back in Avonlea.

“It sounds wonderful, Gil. I do sorely miss home. Diana invited me to spend the break with her family but I don’t think it’s wise to go back yet,” she admits lowly, glancing around the small cafe with her practiced eye. I look too, recognizing each of the faces in the room and understanding the constant awareness she has for her surroundings now.

It strikes me then that she must miss Avonlea dearly, her self-imposed exile causing her loneliness to amplify. She had no one this year, not even the charade of family she had with Roy. Marilla was gone and visiting Diana wasn’t yet something she deemed feasible, the risk far outweighing a few days by herself. Though it troubled me I tried not to let it show, choosing instead to focus on the memories from past Christmases and particularly the year when Bash first came to Avonlea.

“We won’t be able to top Diana’s Christmas I’m sure but I promise you’ll enjoy some good island food, at the very least.” She looks up at me at that, a smile lighting her features.

“Let me think about it. I should be getting on now - Susan planned to leave this evening and I said I’d see her off at the train.” Anne finishes her tea and touches her fingers to my hand once more, glancing up at me shyly. I smile back at her and curl my fingers into my palm, bringing hers with them. She doesn’t pull away and I could burst at the thrill that jolts through me.

“Wish her well for me,” I say as she eventually withdraws, getting to her feet to wrap her scarf around herself tightly.

“I will,” she promises and disappears through the door, the cold wind from outside cooling the blush from my features as I watch her go.

“Bash! Mary!” I shout as they disembark the train, their hands full as they wrangle children and luggage onto the platform. The kids immediately follow my voice and crash into my legs, nearly knocking me over as I laugh at the impact and drop to my knees.

“Uncle Gilbert!” They shout in unison, the twin girls Hazel and Martha grabbing at my arms and little Seb jumping for attention in front of me.

“I’m so glad to see you! You’re all growing so big!” I exclaim heartily, pulling them all in for a tight hug.

“Papa says you say that because you’re never home to see us,” Hazel mumbles into my shoulder, her words causing me to laugh abruptly as I look up towards Bash.

“He does, does he?” I grin and stand up to embrace Bash and Mary in a long overdue hug. “I’m so glad you guys could make it. I couldn’t get anyone to cover to go home so - “

“We know, you don’t have the explain it to us again,” Bash laughs, ruffling my hair and pulling Mary tightly to his side. “Besides - they loved the train ride, even if it was a bit much for the other passengers.”

“Stop, they were fine!” Mary sighs and lifts her hand to my cheek. “You look different than the last time we saw you. Tired still, but there’s something else…”

“I bet it’s a girl. He always gets that dreamy look when - “ Bash teases before Mary slaps his shoulder to hush him.

I pause and smile, shaking my head and turning to lead them to the sleigh I’ve prepared outside the station. “You’ll never guess who’s here,” I say as we walk through the busy station.

“If you tell me it’s that An-” It’s my turn to shoot him a look, his lips closing halfway through the name at my expression. The kids stumble into me at the abrupt stop and Mary looks between us, her brow furrowing.

“Maybe we’ll talk about this all at home, alright?” She interjects and I nod, motioning us once more towards the exit and onto the sleigh. When we’re all settled in I steer us home leaving the horde of people behind.

Once back at the house I let them settle in and busy myself with preparing the tea, so used to waiting on myself that when Mary shuffles in a few moments later I’m surprised when she chastises me for going to the effort.

“You’re my guest, Mary, of course I’m going to make you all tea,” I hiss as she slaps my hand away from the stove.

“Really - don’t you have a housekeeper for this yet? You’re a doctor, you can’t be expected to run a home and work at all hours! Maybe that’s why you’re so exhausted,” she chides and begins setting the tray full with the bakery items I’d purchased for their arrival. She tuts at the pre-made sweets, shaking her head as I remind her that I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.

Later, after Mary prepares and serves supper I insist on letting them focus on getting the children to bed while I prepare a nightcap. When we settle into the small parlour later that evening, the warm scent of aromatic food still lingering in the air, I breathe a sigh of relief at having my family here.

“What has you so happy lately boy?” Bash starts abruptly, running his fingers along Mary’s shoulders in that annoyingly affectionate way that I envy. “I figure you wanted to tell us since you brought it up at the station.”

I clear my throat and smile softly, thinking of how best to bring up the topic with them after all this time. There was no doubt that they would be happy to see Anne but I wanted to be sure I would do it right. The history between us was thick enough already and I needed my family to understand that it wasn’t like before - they couldn’t tease us like they used to, or imply anything of the sort because I knew it would make her uncomfortable, if not abrasive like a cornered animal.

No, they had to get it. I had to figure out a way to make them understand.

“She’s here, isn’t she?” Mary says when my pensive look turns soft.

“Yes.” Is all I can say as I turn over what’s next in my mind. Bash sits up and leans his elbows on his knees, chin in his hand.

“I thought she was married to that fellow from the College,” he mumbles as he watches me shift, concern apparent in his gaze. Though Bash had always been pro-Anne, the truth was really that he was pro-Blythe-happiness, first and foremost. His concern was for the hurt that I had opened myself up to with seeing her again, his worry that it would drag me back down to the half-living person I was in school.

“She was. But…” I pause uneasily, hesitant to share her story without her being here. I wanted to prepare Bash and Mary for seeing her again, seeing the changes in her, but I didn’t want them to know the details of it all - not without her telling them herself. “It didn’t work. She’s - she’s here but nobody is to know that it’s her. She’s going by Cordelia Wright and is teaching - “

“Gilbert,” Mary sighs, watching me carefully. There’s a sadness in her eyes that I can’t miss.

“She had a rough time of it, Mary. I don’t want to go into the details but she’s different now. She’s still kind and caring but she isn’t the same person so I don’t want you to be surprised and ask her a lot of questions because I’m afraid that she’ll get upset,” I admit and shake my head, blinking back a rush of feelings. When I look up it’s Bash who gets to his feet first and pulls me into a crushing hug. I feel myself come apart as the man holds me tightly to his chest, his arms wrapping around my shoulders.

We stand there for a few moments, the surprise at my own tears wearing off as I eventually pull away and rub at my eyes. I hadn’t realized I’d been holding all of this in since I saw her in the window’s reflection that first day. I’d stuffed it away, hidden the relief and the worry and the reality of her story into a place where I didn’t have to process it. But Bash had always had a way of showing me with just a look that I could tell him things that I wouldn’t tell anyone else and this had been no different. He was my brother, my family, and he understood me better than almost anyone else in this world.

“You’ve loved that girl for a long time,” Bash says as he eases back down onto the couch before tucking Mary into his side sweetly. She wipes at her tears and slides her arm around his shoulders, resting against his chest and watching me slip back into my chair.

“I invited her to Christmas dinner. I probably should have asked - “

“Don’t be silly, of course she’s welcome,” Mary chuckles and sighs, looking at me curiously. “Is there something else? Something going on between the two of you?”

“No. And I’d prefer that we didn’t bring anything like that up. I just - with Marilla gone I didn’t want her to spend it alone. Can we just pretend that all of that stuff in the past is just that - in the past?” I urge them to agree, my expression pleading. It was this or it couldn’t happen - I wouldn’t let the past come back to haunt us.

“You have our word, right Bash?” He nods and smiles, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“Promise. Although I am thinking perhaps we’ll need to spice up dinner a bit since we’ll have guests. Do you think she’d appreciate some crab callaloo, if we could find the ingredients?” Bash offers, rubbing his hands together excitedly.

The rest of the evening passes quickly, familiar and comfortable conversation and joking making me feel more relaxed than I’d been in a long while. When eventually we all head to bed I do so with a lighter heart, one actually looking forward to tomorrow and having everyone together for the afternoon.

#anne with an e #anne of green gables #anne x gilbert #shirbert #shirbert fanfiction #lollercakes

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edc-creations-blog · 6 years ago

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Telling Stories by Cheri Paris Edwards

Sometimes life throws you a curveball…

Navigating middle-age is a challenge for 45-year old Genelle “Gigi” Golden. First the death of her mother, then her long time live-in boyfriend abruptly trades her in for a new model. Determined to restart her life Gigl packs her bags and heads to the Southwest. When things don’t go as planned, Gigi finds herself caught between the proverbial ‘rock and a hard place’; and an impulsive decision turns her life in an unexpected direction.

Then ex-military man Desmond Wright enters her life. Although physically changed by a skin disease it hasn’t dampened Desmond’s confidence or lessened his appeal to the opposite sex. But, Desmond’s life is complicated by an spoiled adult daughter, who treats his home like it has a revolving door, and a mother who won’t let him forget that he’s yet to find the love of his life.

When things falls apart, Gigi discovers that true friends reveal themselves in the toughest times and that grace comes when you least expect it.

Chapter One

Genelle- Chasing Waterfalls

Somewhere I read that the sky doesn’t get dark anymore. Well, I know for a fact it’s not true. Tonight, a deep black sky arches above, like an inky tarp dotted with glittering lights. In fact, the entire scene is as picturesque as one of those postcards hanging on the small wire carousel that sits on the shiny front counter of the hotel gift shop. Sand spreads like a fine white coverlet to the ocean’s edge. There, ripples nudged by a soft wind pause, glide effortlessly back into the sea. And perched at the edge of the horizon, a fat moon beams at his shimmery reflection.

Dragging my bare toes through the warm sand, I slowly make my way back toward the squat building that sits at the top of a small hill. By day, the charisma of the eccentric owners, Sam and Anthony, illuminates the restaurant and bar unimaginatively called the Tiki Lounge. At night, it’s the place that transforms. Rows of slender pendant lamps dangle from the wooden rafters above the terrace, turning it into a magical oasis. Even the breeze is enchanting, fragrant with spicy sandalwood incense and sweet plumeria blooms. Stepping onto the pebbled deck, I find an empty table, sink onto the emerald cushion of a chair. I slide my lips over the straw of the daiquiri I hold between my hands. Take a long thirsty swallow.

My eyes drift to the patio doors.

He walks in.

Eyes flashing, he threads through the cluster of tables and chairs. Makes his way toward me, as rhythmically as a slow, sweet song.

“Hey . . . ” he says huskily as he nears my table. His gaze holds mine.

“Hey yourself . . . ” I manage to whisper, breathless from the pounding of my heart.

My nostrils quiver. His scent like a sparkling forest after a burst of summer rain. Flicking my tongue, I moisten my lips, ready for the pressure of his mouth on mine.

Then a sound.

“Jeantel!”

Focus, I tell myself. I lock my eyes on the handsome planes of the face in front of me.

That sound again.

Then, “Jeantel!” Louder this time.

The smooth, angular face poised so delectably near begins to waver.

“Don’t go,” I whisper.

“Over here, Jeantel!”

My black prince’s face dims.

“Jeantel!”

Grudgingly, I let the fantasy slide away.

“Whaaat?” I yell. Yank myself upright. Blink rapidly. Slowly, the cramped interior of my car grows clear.

“It’s me. James.”

“I see you,” I tell the wiry man peering through the passenger window of my Nissan Altima. “What do you want?”

Rudeness is not usually my style, but I convince myself rather easily that there’s no real reason to feel bad about being shitty to James, who I’ve known less than a week. Allowing myself to indulge in a little fantasy has always been a way for me to cope, and the blame for the abrupt ending of this morning’s session lies squarely at James’s feet.

“Gonna let me in or what?” James snatches a face towel that hasn’t seen a washing in a good long while from the back pocket of his jeans, wipes the sweat around on his face.

“Okay,” I tell him as I flick open the door latch.

“Something wrong?” James asks as he climbs inside, flops on the seat.

( Continued… )

© 2018 All rights reserved. Book excerpt reprinted by permission of the author, Cheri Paris Edwards. Do not reproduce, copy or use without the author’s written permission. This excerpt is used for promotional purposes only.

Purchase Telling Stories by Cheri Paris Edwards Amazon Download: http://a.co/d/eVVYwqo

Intimate Conversation with Cheri Paris Edwards

Cheri Paris Edwards is the author of “Plenty Good Room” and the “The Other Sister.” Edwards work has been praised by “Publisher’s Weekly” and “Booklist.” Edwards is a PhD Candidate at the University of North Texas and an Associate Professor.

BPM: It is such a pleasure to have you join us to discuss, “Telling Stories.” Describe yourself in three words. “Passionate, creative and funny.”

BPM: What drove you to publish your first book or create your first series? How long have you been writing? I have been writing since I was a teen when I wrote poetry. I wrote my first novel after literary agent Denise Stinson called me after I’d submitted a non-fiction effort and asked had I ever considered fiction. That novel didn’t ever get published but my next effort, “Plenty Good Room” was published by Denise when she was also an editor for Walk Worthy at Warner books.

BPM: Describe what you do outside of writing to expand your business or brand. Well, I am an Associate Professor at Tarrant County College which is a huge college with almost 40,000 students on five campuses. I work at the Trinity River Campus in downtown Fort Worth. The head of our Tahita Fulkerson library is Dr. Susan Smith and she’s a great person in my view. Like me, she comes to TCC from the University of North Texas. Anyway, she read a proof of “Telling Stories,” and wrote that she REALLY liked it. Consequently, she ordered copies for the library and I spoke at an event on November 1st.

On the other hand, it’s been a bit hard, to talk about my writing in some academic settings. I am a Lit major, and yet I definitely do NOT write literary fiction and many academics do not take romance lit or Christian fiction seriously. They have a specific writing style and expectations for content that they believe is valuable, particularly when it comes to literature written by African-Americans.

I am self-taught as a fiction writer and most promote a programmatic approach to writing fiction that’s gained by going through an MFA program. This is particularly true, because I’ve had to learn to understand the expectations of genre better, and had to readjust my writing to create the kind of pacing that is different from academic or some non-fiction writing. And, I am also self-published. So, I’ve definitely had to find my own confidence. However, I am blessed to have a few great friends who served as beta readers and gave me valuable feedback and others who are just wonderfully supportive of my efforts. I also feel I’ll get nice support from some at the Community College level.

Additionally, I just purchased home in what is called the Great Southwest area in Dallas County and plan to visit libraries to get the book on library shelves in the towns of Lancaster, DeSoto and Cedar Hill. These small cities are predominantly African-American and Lancaster and DeSoto still shelve copies of “Plenty Good Room” It’s also a way of getting my name on local invites to other events where I can sell my book. Unfortunately, I missed the Fort Worth library author’s program this year, but will try to make it next time.

BPM: What was one of the most surprising things you learned in creating your body of work/books? Well, the first time out I was quite surprised at how difficult it was for black writers to get a publishing deal. I don’t know why I didn’t know. After studying African-American history and realizing that this has been an historical challenge for blacks, I understand the constraints of the publishing landscape better. I mean blacks in the not too distant past (like Harlem Renaissance year) really were writing a great deal of the time for a white audience because that’s primarily who had the leisure time, and the ability to read. And, even when weren’t writing for them, they were quite aware their “gaze” was on the work, and that likely influenced how it was written (and what was written) as well.

It’s still difficult today to find publishers for stories about blacks just living their lives, which is situation that Zora Neale Hurston lamented many years ago in a 1950 essay entitled, “What White Publishers Won’t Print.” Well, “Telling Stories” is about black folks just living their lives and they’re older folks (as am I) which makes both me and novel even less interesting to traditional publishers.

So, after a few queries, and rejections and looking at “wish lists from diverse writers” that was just ridiculous in my opinion, I decided since I know how to do graphics and can content edit reasonably well, that I would just again publish myself. One of my TWU colleagues, Erin Marissa Russell, is a fantastic copy-editor and she took the job on pro-bono and I’m very grateful for her help. However, I do feel books should be read across racial lines, because they often identify what connects us as humans.

BPM: How did you choose the genre you write in? Have you considered writing in another genre? I am writing in another genre! And, this is also the first novel written in first-person narrative voice. I began my published career in Christian fiction but it wasn’t purposeful. I wrote a non-fiction book with Christian elements and was told when I submitted it on the open market, I should query Christian publishers and agents. And, because I included those elements in my fiction, after talking with Denise Stinson, I followed the same path in other writings. I really never felt it was a great fit, because my first story didn’t have the arc that most Christian fiction writings do. I don’t think readers knew how to handle the story because of that.

I decided this time out to write a story that was more ME. In hindsight I also think including Christian elements in my fiction and my topics were subconsciously influenced by some internal obligations I felt I had to meet. Now, I just feel freed from those and allowed this story to flow without the feeling that I had to take on any issue or problems or curtail much about how I wanted to tell the story. For example, I curse, so there’s cursing. *lol* And, I am a person who laughs a lot and who often relies on humor to help deal with life’s struggles, so writing a humorous book is also a natural.

BPM: Tell us about your most recent work. It is entitled, “Telling Stories” and is available right now only at Amazon, in print and e-book. Available on Nook and Kindle?

BPM: Introduce us to the people in the book! Give us some insight into your main characters or the speakers. There’s quite a few characters in the book. The story is narrated in the alternating voices of Genelle Golden (or Gigi as she’s called once she moves to Texas) and Desmond Wright. Both are middle-aged and both face challenges in their lives. Gigi has relocated to Texas and when a living situation doesn’t work out, has to take shelter in her car. In other words, she’s homeless.

Some of the people she meets along the way help her through the situation, even when they don’t know all that’s going on in her life. We also meet Butterfly who owns the hair salon where Gigi gets a job, Juan and Imogene who work there and all of the others who stop through or are there for hair appointments. And there’s James, the waitress who helps Gigi and Gigi’s sister Neecie, who’s a bit of a snob.

Desmond comes with his own family and baggage. Mama, is a petite, well-coiffed churchgoer, who will curse you out in “a voice sweet as Karo syrup.” Desmond is a Mama’s boy, and Mama thinks Desmond should hurry up and find a wife! He’s a bit of a commitment-phobe though and though he’s dated quite a bit, none of the women have been quite right. Desmond also has an adult daughter. Malaika is spoiled (by Desmond, of course!) and he can’t keep her out of his pocket or his house, since she’s always underwhelmed by the efforts of her husband Ray. He also has a grandson Clint, who is a whirling dervish one moment, and wise beyond his years the next. And, Desmond has the skin disease vitiligo, although he brags its not dampened his swagger.

BPM: What’s so unique about their story-line or voice in the story? What makes each one so special? Gigi and Desmond have their own distinct voices, challenges, and their lives are quite different, but they are similar in that they both are middle-age and without partners and somehow they come together. Each of them also have backstory that contributes to the emotional baggage they must wade through to really connect which is revealed in brief reminiscences about past events and both working through grief about their parents who have passed away.

BPM: Share one specific point in your book that resonated with your present situation or journey. Like Gigi, I moved to Texas after a series of losses. I lost my mother, and my sons were grown and had moved out. Also like Gigi, I was chronically underemployed while living in Illinois and wasn’t working at all when I decided to leave. Additionally a second contract with a publisher was on the verge of falling apart. Once I decided to relocate, I literally packed my three bedroom townhouse on my own, and with help of a nephew, my brother-in law and a friend, packed all I had into storage and the rest in my car within a few weeks time. Leaving behind below 32 degree temps, ice and snow, my toy poodle Mocha and I took a long rainy ride to Texas.

It was a challenging start. About a year later I returned to school though. I earned my Master’s in English in 2014 and then was accepted into the Literature program at The University of North Texas. I also was able to teach many wonderful students teaching at both colleges before taking the position here last year. I didn’t even have furniture here for a year and a half. I couldn’t move my bed though and slept on an inflatable mattress and kept my clothes in open suitcases until two years ago!

BPM: Are there certain characters you would like to go back to or is there a theme or idea you’d love to work with? Oh, I don’t know. I loved these characters. I haven’t thought seriously about writing more about any of them, but I’m sure I could since much was left unfinished.

BPM: Is there one subject you would never write about as an author? I would not write about a pathological subject having to do with blacks or about passing, simply because I’ve read too many books in the canon about that kind of thing.

BPM: Have you ever received a rejection from an agent or a publisher? Yes, about 3 on this novel from agents before I gave up on querying about a year and a half ago. I didn’t get many with “Plenty Good Room,” and the “The Other Sister” was going to originally be published by the same publisher under a different imprint. However, it was taking so long to get to my manuscript that I went with another offer which ended up not working out.

BPM: Do you ever have days when writing is a struggle? Have you ever had to deal with rejection? It’s a struggle of lot of the time. I just forge through.

BPM: Have you written any other books that are not published? Yes, I’ve written some that I took off the market as well.

BPM: What projects are you working on at the present? Right now I’m working on getting through my dissertation. I’ve been writing throughout this year. Since January, “Telling Stories” had been getting copyedited. Erin was doing it between paying jobs, and then I did a last couple edits on it this summer, but nothing major. I am finishing chapter three of my dissertation and I have one more to finish. I am expanding a research paper I’ve already written, so I’m hopeful I may still finish by the first of the year. I teach five sections this semester and six next semester, and I grade a lot because I offer a workshop setting where students are always submitting exercises, and that takes time too. I have about 100 students this semester. Also, now I commute a couple hours a day since I live in Dallas County.

BPM: How do you stay connected with others in publishing and your readers? On social media of course, although I had deactivated my Facebook for quite a long time. I wanted to get back in touch with the real world, and I did. Even though it’s reactivated, I’m not sure I’ll be involved as I was before.

BPM: What legacy do you hope to leave future generations of readers and new writers with your writing? That it’s not too late, nor are you confined to “traditional” publishers. Just write the best book you can, and have a “day job.”

BPM: What is your preferred method to have readers get in touch with or follow you? They can follow at @write12b on Twitter and I also have a Facebook Author and Personal page. I haven’t been all that active this year because of all of my obligations, but I will be picking up steam in the next few weeks.

BPM: How can readers discover more about you and your work? Twitter: https://twitter.com/write12b Website: https://cheriparisedwards.wixsite.com/mysite-2 Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/cheriparisedwards Author FB page: https://www.facebook.com/purelyparispublishing

Telling Stories by Cheri Paris Edwards Telling Stories by Cheri Paris Edwards Sometimes life throws you a curveball... Navigating middle-age is a challenge for 45-year old Genelle "Gigi" Golden.

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‘Feud’ star Jackie Hoffman on being a character actor: ‘Aging isnt as frightening for us as it is for the pretty people’

Jackie Hoffman steals the show as Mamacita.

Image: Kurt Iswarienko/FX.

Youd have to possess a pretty colorful character, not to mention some serious acting chops, to steal scenes away from Jessica Lange while she’s channeling screen diva Joan Crawford. Fortunately, Jackie Hoffman has both.

From the moment she makes her first appearance in Feud: Bette and Joan, you cant take your eyes off Hoffmans tightly-wound but infinitely patient Mamacita Crawfords sternly Teutonic live-in housekeeper, valet, mother confessor and all around Gal Friday, who is never far from the movie stars side and always faithfully and fiercely on her side, even when Crawford believes no one else is.

Mamacita is, delightfully, a true-life construct: Anna Marie Brinke was Crawfords German-born maid/personal assistant, hired shortly before the actress began mounting her planned comeback in What Ever Happened to Baby Jane? Brinke came recommended by her own daughter, one of her nine children and a maid to a Westhampton neighbor of Crawfords: she impressed the star with her preference for scrubbing floors on her hands and knees over using a mop.

SEE ALSO: ‘Feud: Bette and Joan’ is about so much more than Hollywood’s most infamous catfight

According to Crawford, the Latin-flavored nom de guerre was bestowed upon Brinke because the actress had just returned from a Brazilian vacation in Rio de Janeiro and obsessively added a -cita suffix to everything upon her return. Mamacita would remain in Crawfords service, often contentiously, until a fateful moment in 1974 when she decided to return to her native Germany because she was, as her grandson later related it, tired of having things thrown at her.

Hoffman has a work ethic to rival the real Mamacitas. A veteran of Chicagos fabled Second City comedy troupe who headlined many solo shows, she went on to become an award-winning force off and on Broadway, with star turns in productions including The Sisters Rosensweig, Hairspray, Xanadu and The Addams Family, with occasional forays to Hollywood for film and TV appearances in the likes of Kissing Jessica Stein, Garden State, Curb Your Enthusiasm, and 30 Rock.

And, as Mashable learned during our freewheeling conversation with the actress, in sharp contrast to Mamacitas minimalist approach to communication, shes a conversational tour de force as well.

You had us at hello with Mamacita.

Does Mamacita ever say hello? I dont think hello is a word that comes out of her mouth.

What got you excited about her when the role came your way?

Oh my lord have mercy! First of all, the audition material was so secret that all the names were changed, so they didnt use the name Crawford, they didnt use the name Mamacita. Then I found out later what it was and I had bought, in my 20s, a copy of Joan Crawfords [1971 advice book] My Way of Life, and the gay man inside me, pardon the expression, knew exactly what it was and fell in love with it.

I remember her talking about Mamacita, and then when I heard the characters name is Mamacita, at first I was a little freaked out, because I said, Oh my God, Im playing a Hispanic woman! And then I remembered I was, like, Holy crap Mamacita! Oh my God! There are no adjectives to describe how I felt at that point, just with the whole thing. I still cant get over it.

I was looking up some information on her, and Mamacitas German maiden name was in fact, Hoffman.

Yes, it was, spelled the Jewish way with two Fs and one N. Which is comforting, because I like to think she was Jewish because if not, judging from her age, she was a Nazi.

Did you go on treasure hunt looking for more bits and pieces of information about her once the job was yours?

Im not that dedicated an artist. My treasure hunt consisted of hitting a key on Google and looking at My Way of Life and just making it up on my own.

When you thought about who she was and how you wanted to play her, what was the key into her? When did that big lightbulb go off over your head?

I dont know the lightbulb may still have not gone off. I took German, clean, and putting up with Joan Crawford, and that was all I needed to know.

Youd read Crawfords book had you been a little bit of a student of her at any point?

Im more of a slob, but I remembered things like packing with tissue paper in the sleeves, and if I ever made a dinner with like fish and cauliflower, I always remember, [imitates Crawfords voice] Dont put two white foods on the same plate. Then, whenever I take a picture, I remember from reading this in her book: Always look up and to the right. So I am a student of Joans.

Mamacita is not wholly a broad comic caricature, but theres something inherently funny when we meet her, just in juxtaposition to Joan Crawford.

Right. I think she provides a relief from the intensity of those two dames.

It must have been fun to figure out the rapport with Jessica Lange, and get how they were going to coexist and be codependent together.

Yes, as Jessica got more comfortable, she got more abusive, unfortunately! So youll see that as we unfold. Like, Oh, this is an actress I can fuck with.

Did you give it back?

I set a boundary.

We do learn that theres more depth to Mamacita than we might have guessed early on. How quickly did you know that about her and were able to prepare for?

I knew going in that she was a human being and she had to be fully rounded. Im cheap whore of an actor: Im barely in this episode. What the fuck? But yeah, theres such great writing on the show, and the wardrobe is genius, the wig was genius, the writings great, and that all helped a lot.

What do you think her function in the story of Feud is, ultimately?

She kind of plays a husband/friend/sounding board for Joan. Shes probably the only person that Joan really is herself with, and really tells the truth to. So we learn a lot about who Joan really is through Mamacita, I think. Theres a couple of episodes where shes wasted and says that Im the mother she never had, and youre the only friend Ive had. It gets really, really touching near the end. Like the last scene we shot together, it was just beautiful. So I think Joan shows her a side that she doesnt show anybody else. So it helps to tell the whole story.

It comes through that Mamacita really cares for her, and wants to protect her.

Yes, she does. I would think I would have some love for her, to put up with all of the shit that I put up with.

Throughout your career, have you seen Hollywood or celebrity-type figures with this kind of person at their side? Has that been a reality that youve noticed?

Oh wow, what a question! I know Ive seen people with posses and entourages. I just remember, one of my first movie events was the film I did in, like, 2000, Kissing Jessica Stein, and I remember this woman walking around there was an actor, a very talented actor named Scott Cohen in that movie, and he had this woman going, Hi, Im Scotts publicist

Oh my God, really? People had people around them. The very first pilot I did, like in the mid-’90s, people said My assistant. Im like, Really? Really? You have a personal assistant? So its just a phenomenon that I still cant get over.

SEE ALSO: ‘Feud’ star Jessica Lange on the ways Hollywood is still failing women

Youve had a tremendously prolific career, but I imagine you havent had to deal with the genuine burdens of fame, a lot of the BS that people have to deal with because of a super high profile.

Yeah, thats kind of you: nobody knows who the fuck I am enough to make my life trouble.

Is that the best way to do it?

Its mixed. I did this film I got replaced on with Cameron Diaz and Ashton Kutcher, and I saw the press literally chase them like Dodi Fayed and Princess Di though the tunnel, like, on foot. Im like, Holy crap! The shit they have to deal with. So I would imagine its kind of a mixed blessing. I get letters from 13-year-olds wanting a Playbill signed by people more famous than me.

You have some substantial stuff in Feud. Tell me what that was like to be able to dive deep. She doesnt disappear often. Shes always kind of right there.

God bless Ryan [Murphy] and Tim Minear and Gina [Welch] and those writer/producers, man. God bless them! Because … as there were plenty of days where Im opening doors and handing people beverages, and I was like, Fuck this! Then Im the maid! It could have been like that.

But theyre so smart, and they so want to get their message across, and I was honored, especially like, I think this interview coincides with episode 4, which is where Im encouraging the lovely Alison Wright, about her script, and telling her about the future, about women in cinema, and women in media. Im so honored that I got to tell that message, that I so badly, of course, want to tell. Its an important thing that has to be told.

Look what happened: its turning around a little, but here we are 50 years later, and still no one gives a fuck. Its still such a male world. To be part of Team Ryan Murphy, whos doing everything they can to fight that, is just such a great thing.

It really is shocking how much this fifty-year-old story is resonating, especially here in L.A., where people are watching the show and seeing women literally facing some of the same problems as they were in 1962 Hollywood.

Right. Thats how it was so kismet, because Jessica and I, we both wanted to tell that story. And Jessica and Susan, like, they have careers like Crawford and Davis, where they were like, Fuck you, and they kept working. But both Jessica and Susan were like incredibly, breathtakingly beautiful. For beautiful women, usually youre just, like, fucked. Its over. But they got past it. They went beyond it and they conquered.

When youre in the ugly, unfuckable category like I am, well, We didnt want to fuck her when she was younger, so we might as well hire her when shes older. I think character women at least have that, not that there are many roles. Aging isnt as frightening for us as it is for the pretty people.

Have people in the industry been that crass to you in those terms, in the way that, say, a Jack Warner expresses himself about how he feels about Crawford and Davis?

No, nobody says the word unfuckable, but we know thats what its all about. I put things in the crudest terms. Im the Jack Warner, really.

Have you noticed how popular Mamacita has become? Shes all over the Internet.

No, I have no idea. Im not all over the Internet. I look at my three Twitter followers, and a couple of 15-year-olds are like, Go, Mamacita! I have no idea.

I think the phrase that they would use is breakout character.

Thats excellent. Yes, on Twitter, I call her MamaTweeta.

You got to step back into mid-century Hollywood for a bit what was the best part of that experience?

The whole thing was like a five-month gay mans orgasm. I kept emailing my friends like, Im not allowed to show you anything, but trust me… We werent allowed to take pictures, but even like a jar that they put cotton balls in every object, it was just a breathtaking world. Every costume, the attention paid to every detail, and the beauty. It was ridiculous.

My filthy fingerprints are on every object and every item of clothes because I kept touching everything. Look at this! Look! And, when this was done, I was like two years old. So it would rush like, Oh my God, my mother had something just like this and I remember this when I was a little girl So it had that also.

Everybody in Hollywood is lining up hoping to work with Ryan Murphy right now. He and his team are championing these stories about women that other people seemingly arent telling. Were there any other interesting discoveries about joining Ryans troupe?

Wow that may be too intelligent a question for me! It was a great lesson. Im always huge [in my performance]. Im really theater folk, and Ive done film and television work, but its always like, Bring it down, bring it down, bring it down. And Ryan, from day one, hes like, No, dont make it that cartoony. Shes German, she has purpose and this is just from handing a Pepsi bottle to Jessica for four hours.

He really was reining it in, and you saw that, even larger-than-life characters like Crawford and Davis, theyre people, and he wants everybody to be really real, and I think thats one reason why the things he does are so effective. He really comes from a place of truth. He really made me a better actor for it.

Feud: Bette and Joan airs Sundays at 10 p.m. on FX.

WATCH: What film stars really think about Hollywood’s diversity issue