Waletta is a Louisiana native. She was born in Shreveport and raised in Bossier City. Reading has been a part of her life from a very young age.
Graduating from Texas College in Tyler, Texas, she earned a Bachelor of Science in Business Administration. She also holds a Master of Public Administration from The University of Oklahoma. For over twenty years, she worked for higher education before deciding to write full time. She currently resides in Tallahassee, Florida with her husband, Donald.
Kiesha Jackson's peaceful life is about to change!
Her mother receives military orders to Afghanistan. Keisha goes to live with her grandparents in Magnolia, Florida. The new high school principal is far more concerned with protecting her career than protecting innocent students. When Kiesha unintentionally breaks the school's zero-tolerance policy, she enters the school-to-prison pipeline.
Will Keisha muddle in the injustice of it all? Or will she become a conduit for change?
A row of sparsely planted shrubs extended along the front of the house. She watched a large lizard leap from one of the front windows onto the decorative plant before knocking on the front door. After a moment, the door swung open to reveal a petite blond-haired, blue-eyed woman holding an adorable blond-haired, blue-eyed toddler boy. The child removed the sippy cup from his lips and tendered a delightful gum-filled smile. Chaos lay on the other side of the threshold—scattered toys and clothes, and a child dancing with Barney the Dinosaur blaring from the television. The clamor of screaming children reverberated out from other places in the house. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">The woman wrinkled her nose before speaking. “Hello? May I help you?”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">“Mrs. Vickers?”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">“Yes?” The woman curled her lips.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Shirley squared her shoulders and sized her up. “My name is Shirley Jackson. I understand you had a problem with my daughter this afternoon.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">“Excuse me?” asked the woman with a confused look on her face.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">The toddler threw his sippy cup on the floor.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">“My daughter, Keisha, was the teenage girl you chased in your van this afternoon.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Mrs. Vickers jaws dropped, and her face drained of color. “I …I don’t know what… she was throwing rocks.” <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">“No, she wasn’t.” Shirley stared her down. “You also felt the need to shout a few racial epithets out of your van window.” <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Mrs. Vickers eyes grew large and bulgy. “I’m not prejudice or anything. I have black friends.” Vickers crinkled up her nose and mustered up a fake smile.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Shirley raised her hand and cut her off as she opened her mouth to speak. “Congratulations. I’m not here to argue with you. I’m here to warn you. Stay away from my daughter. Don’t say another word to her. If you see her walking down the street, don’t even speak to her. Not one word. Nothing!”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaAb8hwrpdWyulW4fJyChSPiN9J-rJ9TfbllK8Xf87l78x6_w7rt0Smte87q_YNojnVIOxjjPZqiMSG92qiTbKYST3RgRkGsniNiwjGTQY3r3ZjGCOd22GoErPSmFB2Qi5pEDGor3YsnM/s210/connect+socially+.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="43" data-original-width="210" height="43" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaAb8hwrpdWyulW4fJyChSPiN9J-rJ9TfbllK8Xf87l78x6_w7rt0Smte87q_YNojnVIOxjjPZqiMSG92qiTbKYST3RgRkGsniNiwjGTQY3r3ZjGCOd22GoErPSmFB2Qi5pEDGor3YsnM/s0/connect+socially+.png" width="210" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; 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I wish I’d known that sooner.
It was a phrase I used often when I was a new mother. Parenting a new baby was overwhelming and I had no idea what I was doing. Occasionally a seasoned parent would share a parenting tip that would make my life easier. “Get as much sleep as you can when you can” or “accept all the help you can get” were two of my favorite ones. When I brought my newborn daughter home, I wanted to be the best mother possible. I’d spend her sleeping moments doing the things I couldn’t get around to do when she was awake. I was exhausted most of the time. But I heeded the advice of other parents and began sleeping when my daughter was asleep. I even asked and received help from other family and friends.
If only I’d known those tips on the first day my daughter came home.
Each time I release a book it’s like giving birth. I put in a lot of hard work and sacrificed a lot of time to share my new book baby with the world. There were mistakes learned along the way and lessons learned as well. Here are 10 things I wish I knew about being an author I didn’t know before. Perhaps these tips will help other new authors.
1. Read-Read often. It will increase your vocabulary and your creativity. You’ll also learn what good writing looks and sounds like.
2. Write-Release your thoughts. Practice your skill.
3. Study-Perfect your craft by taking classes and workshops.
4. Network-Get to know others who are doing what you want to do.
5. Ask for feedback-It can be difficult for a writer to read their work with objectivity. Feedback can provide an unbiased perspective.
6. Know your audience-Focus on what your reader will read, understand, and they will hunger for more.
7. Research-Get the facts right.
8. Save your work-Recycle deleted scenes into future manuscripts.
9. Edit-We all make mistakes. Sometimes they are easy to identify; Sometimes, they are not. After you complete a self-edit, spend money on professional editing. It is worth the time and money.
10. Outline-Creating an outline for your manuscript is like using a roadmap for travel. There are lots of ways to reach your destination. Using a map will help you stay on track.
The journey from idea to print can be both scary and rewarding. But with a few insider tips, the new author can avoid a few pitfalls. So, birth your book and share it with the world. And don’t forget to enjoy the journey.