A Writer's Response to Domestic Violence with Guest Author Sandra de Helen

Writers are in a position to cast light on social problems, and many of us find ways to do so while entertaining our readers as well. October is Domestic Violence Awareness Month, and several of my guests this month have addressed the topic from different perspectives. Today I welcome author Sandra de Helen, who talks about how the spectre of violence can haunt a writer and what she can do about it. ~ Sheila

A Writer's Response to Domestic Violence

by Sandra de Helen

Domestic violence is everywhere. It hits us where we live. In my writing, I am always aware of the pervasiveness of domestic violence. I lived with it for the first twenty-one years of my life, first at home, then in my first marriage. I know how sometimes words can hurt as much as physical blows.

In my next book Till Darkness Comes, I introduce a serial killer who preys on those who prey on children. We visit domestic violence up close and see its effect on some of the victims. We also see justice done, which isn't always the case in real life.

One thing I know for sure is violence doesn't always beget violence. I'm not a violent person, and my daughter was born a pacifist. She's never hit another person or animal or even a wall. She trained me to change my language to stop saying "shut up" for example, and to never call anyone (even myself) "stupid." I do acknowledge that most people who are violent to others have been abused themselves. Children learn from experience. Whatever they hear, see, and have done to them, they are likely to perpetrate on others. Just not always. We have to break the cycle somehow.

One of the ways we as writers can help break the cycle of violence is by writing about it. Tell our stories, and tell the stories of our characters. End the silence, end the secrets, share the love. We can write about forgiveness and how that doesn't mean the acts/words/deeds we forgive were okay. It means we are healing ourselves. I learned these lessons from reading what others wrote, from hearing others' stories.

And if I see something, I say something. I don't go around putting myself in danger. I do speak up for others, I call out "do you need help?" when I hear a scream. I offer to help busy mothers in grocery stores or shopping malls. Especially when they are yelling at their children, or spanking them (which I rarely see any more here in Portland, Oregon). I go up and say: "May I help you? You look like you have your hands full." Or words to that effect. I try to stay non-judgmental, and more than an arm's length away when asking. I've been told off a few times, but more often my offer has been accepted. I help by carrying groceries, quieting a child, carrying a baby, or whatever the mom needs.

My first two books are set in and around Portland. Here's a link to a site about the Willamette River, which features in both books. 

The second book also features a mega yacht, similar to Seattle's Paul Allen's Octopus. You can read about Octopus and see photos here.

If you live in Portland, or come for a visit, please visit our indie bookstores, like Powell's, Broadway Books, Annie Bloom's, and especially our feminist bookstore In Other Words.

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Chapter 1 of THE ILLUSTRIOUS CLIENT by Sandra de Helen

OCEANE LEANED HER head against Zaro’s left shoulder, laughing as she continued to sing a French lullaby to the giant panda she carried in her left arm. The night was cool as they strolled along Portland’s waterfront away from the Rose Festival City Fair, and toward the privacy of Zaro’s yacht. The bridge lights cast their rainbow colors on the water behind them as they passed the condos and strolled alongside the shop windows. Seagulls roosted on mooring pylons, letting her know it was probably later than she thought. She pulled her cashmere sweater a bit tighter as a breeze came off the Willamette River. Still, it wasn’t raining as her friends had warned her it would do everyday. Instead the days had been sunny more often than not for her visit to Rose City. She and Zaro enjoyed their relative anonymity here. Hardly anyone had recognized her as the European pop star she was. Not yet. Her performance would come on the last night of the festival, which meant she could remain relatively unknown and enjoy Portland as any other tourist would.
            That was days ahead. Tonight they went to the carnival, rode rides, played games, and drank local wine.
            As they approached the dock where Zaro’s yacht, the Freja, waited for them, Oceane squealed a bit, and ran ahead. Zaro laughed and ran to join her. Together they raced up the stairs to the main level. Zaro’s man Khalil opened the door and took their wraps, the stuffed bear, and asked what he could bring them. Zaro dismissed him for the night, and Khalil retired to his own quarters below decks. Zaro and Oceane hurried to the master suite, glancing at each other every few steps, smiling as if keeping a secret they could share with no one.
            Zaro shut the door behind her. The king-size bed filled most of this quiet, lush cabin. The floor was overlain with Turkish rugs, the bed covered in silks and satins of grey and cream, with black, red, and orange pillows of various shapes and sizes. Oceane picked up the tiny remote and found a playlist of instrumental jazz to suit their mood. They met at the mirrored bar and Zaro poured wine for each of them from a bottle of Oceane’s family’s own vineyards. Tonight it was Chateau des Ouches’s Special Selection, a sparkling white known as Cremant.
            As the music played in the background, and the bubbly tickled their palates, Zaro and Oceane shed their clothes. Oceane chose a satin robe to match her eyes, the color of espresso. Zaro slipped into silk pajama pants. The pale ivory against her café au lait skin never failed to excite Oceane. She walked up to her and stood with her breasts against Zaro’s as her fingers found the nape of her neck and felt her blue black mane. The short hairs on her nape were as soft as the plush on the panda she won for her at the carnival. She tilted her head up, gazing into Zaro’s eyes, opening her lips, touching her tongue to her upper lip. With a groan, Zaro kissed her deeply, and lifted Oceane from the floor into her arms.
            As Zaro gently lay Oceane onto the bed and pushed the pillows out of the way, Oceane never took her eyes off her. She couldn’t believe this gorgeous woman was really hers. One of the most eligible lesbians in the world, with a fortune of her own, and bone structure any model would kill for–she knew Zaro had been with at least a hundred women before her. But ever since they met at the Rose Ball in Monaco, they were inseparable. That was nearly three months ago, and she had gone with her to every concert she had since. She had never had a woman cherish her the way Zaro did, cater to her every need or desire. She wasn’t experienced like Zaro, of course. She was only 20 years old. She’d had boyfriends in high school, had even given up her virginity to one of them. And she dated women now and then since becoming so busy. But it was difficult to find anyone who was interested in her for herself in the music business, or so it seemed. They all wanted a piece of her–of her contracts, that is.
            Zaro was different. She was protective and generous. She showed her love every day in ways big and small. She said she didn’t care about her being famous, in fact she said she’d rather she weren’t. She loved her voice, of course. It was what drew her to Oceane in the first place. She had asked Prince Albert and Princess Charlene to introduce them. But she would be happy if Oceane weren’t famous, didn’t have concerts booked, wasn’t working on a new recording. To prove how generous she was in spite of all that, she had her yacht fitted with a recording studio so Oceane could work while they were abroad, and wouldn’t have to leave at all.
            Oceane touched Zaro’s face, and gently pulled her head toward her own. Their mouths sought each other out, and their tongues played together as if they had minds of their own. When Zaro lifted her mouth from her, she slid under Oceane on the bed, and lifted her on top of her lithe body. She pulled her upright so she could tease her nipples, gently biting them through the robe, while cupping her behind with her hands. They both became aroused. Inside, Oceane felt a melting, a loosening of the muscles, a solid core of heat running from her breasts to her inner thighs. She wanted badly to pull down Zaro’s pajamas and straddle her, but she let her take the lead as always. Zaro liked to keep her waiting until she was practically begging her to enter her. As she moved ever so slightly against Zaro’s heated thigh, she moved her off, onto the bed. Zaro untied the belt of Oceane’s robe, pulled it open, and began kissing her body. First the breasts, and under her arms and down to her wrists and hands, sucking a finger of each hand. And her neck, and down her chest to her flat belly, which she gave tiny licks. When she reached her pubic area she turned to her thighs and gave them bites as well as kisses.
            Oceane was moaning with desire and ready for more when Zaro suddenly stopped what she was doing and sat up.
            “What is it?” Oceane asked.
            “Shh.”
            There was a sound outside the bedroom window. They both heard it this time. Zaro jumped up, threw back the drapes, opened the window and climbed out.
            “Come back here, you!” She was actually chasing someone.
            “Zaro, wait! Let me call the police. See, I’m calling them now.” Oceane was dialing 911 on her cell phone when she heard Zaro scream. She climbed out the window, pulling at her robe with one hand, still holding the phone in the other. Khalil came running from somewhere, yelling “Stop her! Stop her!”
            Khalil and Oceane reached Zaro at nearly the same minute. Zaro was screaming and writhing in pain. She couldn’t tell them what had happened, but it was clear she’d been attacked. Khalil took the phone from Oceane and spoke with the emergency dispatcher asking for both police and an ambulance.
            “It looks like acid.”

Sandra de Helen’s books as well as two of her plays and several short stories are available at Amazon.com. Her monologue Switchblade was published in “Singular Voices” by JAC Press in July 2008. Her libretto Alberta was published in the July 2006 issue of Oregon Literary Review. de Helen is currently part of the multi-cultural playwriting group Penplay. Samples of her works are at www.SandradeHelen.com. de Helen is a proud member of the Dramatists Guild and International Centre for Women Playwrights.

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Fall into a Maggie Toussaint Mystery with a Social Issue

October is Domestic Violence Awareness month, an issue that author Maggie Toussaint addresses in her newest Cleopatra Jones mystery. Integrating such a dark and all-too-real issue into fiction meant mainly to entertain isn't easy - read Maggie's thoughts on the value of making the effort. Leave a comment and you will be entered for a drawing for an ARC (advance reader copy) of Dime If I Know.  ~ Sheila

Mystery with a Social Issue

by Maggie Toussaint

My Cleopatra Jones mystery series is often irreverent, often lighthearted, but at the heart of newly released book three of this series, Dime If I Know, is a dark tragedy. The youngest sibling in my sleuth’s boyfriend’s family died in a shooting accident years ago.

The Golden family kept the accident out of the press, but every family member is affected by the cover-up. Now, years later, a current murder shines a spotlight on the past event, and family secrets come to light.

Worse, the family is forced to admit that the first death was no accident. Something very wrong is within their ranks, something which pits family member against family member.

While this violent incident served the plot of a story, domestic violence is a very real concern in our world. By definition, domestic violence is a behavior used by one person to control another person. Behaviors may include belittling, halting communication with others, withholding money, interference with a career, actual or threatened harm, sexual assault, stalking and intimidation.

Missie, who inspired Madonna, the
"mama dog" of Maggie Toussaint's
mystery series, doesn't  believe in
violence at all.

Fortunately for the Golden family in my fictional world of Dime If I Know, penetrating the veil of secrecy is enough to start the chain of healing. My sleuth Cleopatra Jones is the catalyst for change. Once the Goldens quit perpetuating the lie told over the years, they realize there is a problem.

In the story, the perpetrator is a chameleon, appearing to be no different than anyone else, similar to abusers in real life. This character perpetuates a cycle of violence within the family, destabilizing the family unit behind the scenes whenever she/he needs to reassert control.

Cleopatra Jones once again rises to the occasion of solving the mystery, demanding the truth, and refusing to let closed doors hamper her quest to clear her boyfriend’s good name. She brings healing to a troubled family.

For more information on Domestic Violence, start here: http://www.domesticviolence.org/  

Find Dime If I Know (hardcover) at Amazon and Barnes and Noble

Formerly an aquatic toxicologist contracted to the U.S. Army and currently a freelance reporter, Southern author Maggie Toussaint loves to blend murder and romance in her fiction. With ten published books to her credit, her latest releases are Hot Water (romantic suspense) and Dime If I Know (mystery). She’s an active member of Mystery Writers of America, Romance Writers of America, and Sisters In Crime.

Visit Maggie at:

www.maggietoussaint.com

http://mudpiesandmagnolias.blogspot.com 

http://www.facebook.com/MaggieToussaintAuthor

Guest Author C. Hope Clark Champions the Abused in Her Fiction

October is Domestic Abuse Awareness Month and that is one of the themes for the month on my blog, with the emphasis (as always) on what it means for writers and readers. This is not an easy subject for most writers or readers, but it is one that we need to address as a society now, it seems, as much as ever. It's my pleasure to welcome back C. Hope Clark, author of The Carolina Slade mysteries and friend to writers everywhere with her website fundsforwriters.com, who will tell you about how she handled domestic abuse in her work. ~ Sheila 

Championing the Abused in Mystery Fiction

 By C. Hope Clark

Lowcountry Bribe, the first in The Carolina Slade Mystery Series, is not a cozy. Slade’s world becomes violent, the pace heart-thumping quick. The humor is dry, the air often thick with fear. The threats start with her job, a cherished part of her persona, and she reluctantly agrees to fight the good fight to salvage her career. But then those threats cross into her home life. First her children, then her own safety, and ultimately her life. Then she realizes the threats aren’t just from the obvious culprit. A family member becomes just as bad.

Domestic abuse is real. I experienced a nasty divorce. I left before anything turned physical (and I'm not saying that it would have, but the possibility was there). However, the verbal lashings might as well have left welts. Physical damage consisted of a twenty-five-pound weight loss, gallbladder surgery, two years of PTSD, and three years of anti-depressants. We write what we know, and to increase Slade’s tension and expand her obstacles, I tapped into old feelings, both physical and psychological--the nightmares, the looking over one’s shoulder, the tentative glances in a rearview mirror, the hang-up phone calls.

Some nights, my scenes became too hard to write. My critique group knew that portions of Lowcountry Bribe were autobiographical, but not which parts. So when a scene wasn’t deep enough, they’d ask if it was fact or fiction, then politely ask if the moment hit too close to home.

Many times it did come too close, throwing up a temporary writer’s block.

After years of edits, however, I reached the end. And over the next couple of years, I landed an agent and a publishing contract for the series. As I signed my name on the paper, giving Bell Bridge Books rights for Lowcountry Bribe, trepidation set in on two fronts.  First, had I painted Slade in a realistic light when it came to the threats and abuse? Had I given enough justice to those in real life going through such dark times?  Second, how would I handle it when people started suspecting Slade was me?

Slade endured physical abuse, including a near-rape. Thank God my life was not that severe, but suddenly I worried that I hadn’t the right to depict someone in an abusive relationship when I hadn’t been knocked around.

Then the reviews started coming in. Some immediately recognized the cycle of abuse and the triggers it takes to break free.

It seemed very real to life. For survivors of sexual assault there are some passages that could act as triggers. We get to witness her break out of the repressive shell even today's women are so often locked within, moving from reluctant victim to taking charge, and doing it quickly, albeit not necessarily smoothly, in order to save herself and her children. Well worth the read.

But this one made me cry, telling me that I’d done my job properly:

The entire novel had me hog-tied emotionally as I recognized this character and knew her to be a composite of real women I have known in my forty years as an advocate/counselor and nurse. I recognize these women who daily face their marriage, motherhood, job, regrets, and extenuating circumstances such as abuse, and rape/sexual assault. This book is tough for many to read if you graft Slade into your consciousness and find her as believable as I know her to be. But the truth is, it is one of the most realistic portrayals of millions of women who are living their lives in subjection until suddenly, a trigger is pulled. The trigger may be about the children, one's personal belief system or some traumatic personal event, but into every woman's life comes that moment of truth where she either flails, fails or excels. Slade does the latter. This incredible novel has so many believable and intricate portrayals of true to life characters, each so intimately described that you know them and who they are in your own life. C. Hope Clark has been blessed with firsthand knowledge so profound that she can translate it with purity and honesty that allows the reader to be there and participate. I dare say any victim of domestic violence and rape/sexual assault will find this novel filled with events so real you can taste, smell, and feel the pain of each trauma as it occurs. If Carolina Slade grows in the next books of the series, as realistically as she was born into print the author is going to have an unprecedented series that all women should read: and in particular, victims/survivors. Not every woman is a 'super-shero' but I guarantee you, every woman can relate to Carolina Slade.

Domestic abuse isn’t simple and is frequently hidden behind locked doors. In my writing group, some of the men didn’t understand why Slade didn’t just go to the police from the outset. They thought her behavior unreasonable at times. But the women got it. I’ll ever be happy I wrote this book the way I did.

C. Hope Clark is author of The Carolina Slade Mystery Series from Bell Bridge Books. Lowcountry Bribe (2012), Tidewater Murder (2013) and Palmetto Poison (2014). She is also editor of FundsforWriters.com , a newsletter service that reaches 45,000 writers. www.chopeclark.com / www.fundsforwriters.com

Please leave a comment. If it doesn't appear right away, please be patient. I moderate all posts to prevent spam. Thanks! ~ Sheila

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Please come back Thursday when author Maggie Toussaint

will continue the theme of fiction's role in raising awareness 

about  domestic violence.