Wow. I’ve just read WellOKThen’s untitled entry. Deep stuff. By comparison, this intentionally keep-it-light submission now seems hopelessly inadequate.

In fact, it’s highly appropriate to say: ‘I’ve got a bad feeling about this.’

As a child of the 70s, to me Star Wars always meant both the original 1977 film and the trilogy. (In much the same way that Hawaii refers to both Hawaii and Hawaii.) It wasn’t until the 1990’s prequels that Episode IV became widely known as A New Hope.

That didn’t sit well with me.

Not that I had to contend with the change; that’s a part of life. Not that suddenly the original trilogies were episodes four to six; the scroll had always dubbed them so. No; what I didn’t like was the title.

A New Hope.

I found it weak. Vague. Lacking.

You know where you are with The Empire Strikes Back and Return of The Jedi. Even The Phantom Menace, Attack of the Clones, Revenge of The Sith and The Force Awakens are bold subtitles which elicit a sense of adventure, danger and derring-do. But A New Hope left me empty and unenthralled.

Until Rogue One, arguably the best film of the franchise.

There is a line which imbues the words ‘a new hope’ with power and expectance. (I’m not saying what the line is, who delivers it or when: no spoilers here.) Suddenly, Episode IV’s subtitle was pertinent and exciting.

So thank you to person who wrote that line for instilling in me, a then 40-something man, a sense of wonder and joy that reminded me of the pleasure and fantasy of my youth.

And thank you to you too, for staying with me through this tirade. I hope I didn’t keep you from something important.

If you contracted with a publishing house and they did not fulfill the terms of your contract, write them a letter informing them you intend to file a civil suit against them in court. If the money involved is significant, a contingency lawyer will accept your case and press it for you for 30% of whatever they recover.

This should, if anything spark your emotions to write, about this experience or other life experiences when you've felt cheated or shunned. Another's poor business practices has no reflection on your writing or its worth. The only way to show this to yourself and the world is to write more and better.

Writing is not about getting published anymore than hoping, wishing, longing, yearning has any relationship to achieving. Action is all there is.

I’m sorry.

I’m sorry you’ve been clumped in with Black Lives Matter and ANTIFA.

I’m sorry first responders aren’t able to reach your neighborhoods.

I’m sorry you have to be afraid of walking down your block.

I’m sorry you’re afraid to hang an American flag outside your home.

I’m sorry that so many people think they know you because they see the color of your skin.

I’m sorry that you are belittled and demeaned by self-pitying, self-righteous individuals who come to destroy your communities while proclaiming they have compassion.

I’m sorry your communities have been burned and destroyed.

I’m sorry that “segregation” has reintroduced itself into our modern times.

I’m sorry that the pressure you felt from the world looking at you and thinking they know your story has risen to a level that feels like you’re holding the sky up.

I’m sorry for every immature person who came to you and gave you a handout because “you look a certain way.”

I’m sorry that these people who are so culturally secluded that they are incapable of acting in a socially acceptable way in front of someone different than them believe that they are the ones who will free you from your “inequity”

But most of all, I’m sorry that you are once again in American history being referred to anything other than what you truly are, which is AMERICAN.

Don’t listen to those demeaning, self-righteous blowhards who think they owe you, as if you were too incompetent and disabled to work hard and gain it for yourself with pride. Don’t take their handouts that they stole and squandered from the people around them.

As a fellow American who happens to be white, I HATE THEM TOO!

But I also pity them. I pity their ignorance. I pity their misguided attempts to be a part of something bigger than them. Don’t we all want to make a difference? Don’t we all want to do something significant with their lives? Imagine if they used their energy to fight slavery in other countries, fought for women’s rights in other countries, or even fought against the global human trafficking! They’re all deceived by the lies that you are incapable, unprivileged, oppressed, and hunted. Through their pursuit to find someone to blame, they made idols of rapists, violent offenders, druggies, and all sorts of criminals while squashing the lives of people who are also trying to bring good into the world and protect us from those who would destroy our livelihoods.

But most of all, I pity them because they have become what they want to destroy...

Bigoted

Idiotic

Racists

Sincerely,

A Fellow American

The word means everything to me, but is personified by a key person in my life.

Things were overwhelmingly black in my early thirties. There was no reason to the outside observer. We had purchased our first house, my husband and I had satisfying careers. We were making a difference in several troubled teen's lives.

Until the day I opened the door to our walk in pantry/storage closet and our dog knocked the door closed behind me. Instantly transported back to a moment in my childhood, where I had crammed myself into a closet where my mother kept the vacuum cleaner, memories came flooding back and I screamed. I was hiding from a very real monster in my life. You see it was the smell. The odor of musty, dusty motes of dreck that used to pepper the air around them. We have much better filtration and capture of our dust now, but then, in the late 80's not so. Even less so in the the early 60's.

I have no idea how long I froze there for, but it was the whining worried crying of our dog, that finally brought me out of my terrified state. The memories that came back were worthy of the blubbering mess I'd become and it took me weeks to even acknowledge they were back.

Dr. Hope was the facilitator of a group therapy program helping childhood sexual abuse survivors deal with the fallout.

The search for help dealing with triggers and continual bouts of crying, of wondering what people would think of me, of questioning if my husband would still love me, ended when a therapist recommended the Jewish Family Center.

Programs to help with what I went through were hard to find, it is much easier today and I had to hold on for months before a new help session started. Still most would argue, mental health is the most under funded area of medical care in this country to this day.

I learned through painful examination of what happened to me, to understand it was hope that got me through, even as a child of five. It was hope and faith that the torture would stop, that gave me the strength as a child, on a very primal level to put the experiences into a box and bury them until I was in a safe stable place where I could deal with what had gone on at such tender age.

And today I know faith is the manifestation of hope. It is the core set of values that guide me, and the absolute knowledge that God never gives us more than we can handle, we only have to find the courage and strength He knows we have.

Hope gets us through every difficult goodbye in our lives, to see the easing of pain as we accept what cannot be changed. Hope allows us to let love work its magic, making us kind caring individuals who can turn from victims to survivors. Faith is what makes it happen even if you don't believe there is a God.

And Dr. Hope with her infinite wisdom and compassion helped us forge friendships and have faith. She showed us how strong, kind and compassionate we were, and where fault should really be placed. She gave me connections to four other women which have bound us together ever since.

Out of an excruciating recollection of petrifying memories came good which has permeated my life. The knowledge that I can do anything I put my head and heart into, to give me fulfillment in my life. And if I persevere, I will get through the difficult and reap the rewards.

This is what hope does. It gets you to the other side.

Trust on the front end is good faith, an offer. If it fails, it’s not your fault. Trust on the back end is only earned, but depending on where you set your threshold, you may die alone. Good faith is its own reward. If you take a hit or two in the process, there are all the rest for comaraderie with the Divine. Earned trust is way too much trouble.

Hi Tima,

I am so sorry that the publishing house you worked with before mistreated you and did not give you what was rightfully yours. I commend you for the hope you are displaying by writing again, and reaching out to others to build a solid network of support. I am excited that you got the rights back to your work, and I have hope that it will be published in a place where you and your art will be treated with respect and kindness. I am rooting for your success, and I will be sure to follow you here as well. Only the best to you and your future endeavors, whether they are writing or anything else as well!

Fingers typing,

Keys clacking,

Working all the time,

To project a story of hope,

To one day lead us out,

Of this dark and dreary moat,

Yet hope cannot be lost,

It is shown in magic,

Whispers,

And dreams.

A world to progress along with a story,

One that will give us all is needed,

You will claim it and so will all,

It will be yours and humanities,

It will be grown to love.

Much I marvelled the thankful look,

While I pondered, thinking, and shook.

My mind always strays to eyes,

The ones that can’t tell lies.

I remember I was coming.

All my soul within me crumbling.

And so you come, gently clanging.

Distinctly I was awaiting.

By the grave, I saw the eyelids.

I made my bids.

Greeting and greeting with my skull,

The sky seems dull.

But in the fact that it was dripping,

Back into my memories assessing.

By my grave, I saw the carnations.

Quoth the envy, “Mind the impatiens.”

And your eyes have all the concerning,

While I pondered, facing, and free burning.

If by chance, my world bends.

If by chance, my would ends.

You can cope,

I have hope.

Hope can be found in different ways

Just find where it lays

I know you will, we know you will

And all your dreams you will fufill