Preview of OK Danny Boy (Monster) vol. 2 by Felicia Johnson

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After a couple of days, I got used to the routine at Bent Creek. Wake up, check vital signs, chat for a bit with your group and group leader while waiting for breakfast, take my insulin, breakfast, morning goals group with a mix of different counselors along the doctor leading the goals group, my doctor, Dr. Finch.

Dapper and chill as always, Dr. Finch sat with me in the room after morning goals group. It was easy to talk with him. I mostly stayed on the surface of things with him because when it was time to go deep, I felt like I couldn’t do it. I felt like if I did go down that dark path of what had actually happened and how I truly felt about it all, I would lose the comfort zone I was in and in turn I’d lose my ability to want to talk to Dr. Finch or even be in Bent Creek Hospital. What else was I going to do if I didn’t stay here? Go back to my home where Mom and Pop fight and make me feel crazy? Sit and watch reality fake tv with Mom-Mom and we take our insulin together and stay silent about the other medications that I need to function, too. There was no way in hell I was going back that church so that the scary priest man could squeeze my head and the bronze statue of the man with arms wide open would stare at me and watch and let them do those things to me.

“I want to talk about home, Daniel.” Dr. Finch said. “What is home life like for you?”

I put my feet up in the chair and rested my chin on top of my knees. It made it easier to untie and re-tie my shoe laces in that position. I don’t know where or how I picked up this nerve picking habit to mess around with my shoe laces. It seemed to have started at the beginning of that school year after I was shortly put on academic probation.

“Home,” I said. “Home. Home. Home.” I almost began to sing it as I belted the word out once more.

Dr. Finch blinked and waited.

“It’s okay. Mom-Mom is great. She is weird like me but different because she is into church stuff. I don’t judge her or anything. I just wish that she wouldn’t judge me. Pop, well, Pop is just Pop. I mean,” I chuckled. “He is in and out. He doesn’t have a job yet. Mom is working around the clock and she leaves it to me to take Mom-Mom to the doctors. Which, really, I don’t know what’s going on there because Mom-Mom has been going to the doctor’s office a lot lately and it worries me. It could be because of Diabetes. But she says that she is okay. You see, me, my Pop and Mom-Mom all have Diabetes. We got it when we were kids. I shouldn’t have kids because they’ll probably have it too. Plus, Theresa would hate that. She wouldn’t want to…”

Dr. Finch’s expression changed. He furrowed his eyebrows and cocked his head to the side. He looked thoroughly confused, yet concerned.

“Go on,” he encouraged me to speak more.

I shrugged my shoulders and leaned back in my chair. I said, “I worry about my mother.”

“Tell me more about that, Daniel. Tell me about what worries you.”

Dr. Finch was the first doctor that I ever had that wanted me to talk about it. Still, I felt uncomfortable as I sat in the chair across from him. I picked at my shoelaces and kept my head down. I desperately wanted to smoke. It was out of question to even ask for cigarettes.

Dr. Finch waited for me to answer him, but I had no idea where to start. It was frustrating, trying to find the right words to explain the hows and whys of everything when most of the shit didn’t make enough sense to try to explain.

“It’s okay,” Dr. Finch said. “I’ll ask you in another way. Why did you ask to come to Bent Creek? You could have went home after you were released from Egleston Hospital.”

“I guess…” I said with a heavy sigh, “I guess it was because I had no other place to go.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that I couldn’t go back home after everything that had happened. It was hard for them.”

“It was hard for whom?”

“Mom-Mom, my Mom and my Pop and Theresa…”

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Since you’ve been here, you have only talked about everyone else’s problems, but what about you?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted.

Dr. Finch didn’t look like he was buying it. He shook his head and gestured his hands out to me as he spoke, as if he was pleading with me.

“Look, Daniel,” Dr. Finch said. “I know that it’s not easy. Especially when you have been through all that you’ve gone through in the last week or so. The emotional stress on top of your physical stress from the complications you suffered with Diabetes, it’s-“

I don’t know what came over me. I put up my hand to stop Dr. Finch from speaking and I cut him off.

I said, “Having diabetes isn’t the real challenge. Sure, I have to stick myself with a needle about two times a day. I have complications if I don’t watch what I eat and take care of myself physically. Like, I can’t eat what everyone else eats like candy bars and birthday cake. I can live with that. I always have lived with it. It’s the Bi-Polar Disorder that messes me up. One minute I’m fine and as soon as something happens that makes me angry, I loose it. It’s like when I last saw Theresa talking to Ryan, I just wanted to kill him.” I paused and looked out of the window. Still picking with my shoelaces, I tried to calm down. It felt like my emotions wanted to get the best of me. I didn’t want to cry. I couldn’t cry!

Dr. Finch remained calm and quiet. He watched me and listened to me intently. It was a strange feeling to have someone listen and care the way that Dr. Finch seemed to care about what I had been through.

I continued, “I don’t understand Bi-Polar like I understand Diabetes. Diabetes is simple. It’s genetic. My grandmother has it and my father has it. Maybe Bi-polar is genetic too?” I paused. When Dr. Finch didn’t respond I said with a shrug, “I don’t know.”

Dr. Finch nodded his head and remained silent. I kind of expected him to tell me if it was true or not. I wondered if it was genetic. I expected him to hit me with some popular statistic or something. I looked at him and something about his concerned expression made me chuckle. He made me a bit anxious. The next few words out of my mouth seemed to spill out without thought.

“When I was a kid, I watched my father beat a man into a coma. I didn’t do anything to help the man. I just stood there and watched as my father beat the man’s face into a bloody pile of meat with his bare hands. I didn’t cry. I didn’t scream. I didn’t react at all. I even had a bad dog bite from the guy’s German Shepard. I still didn’t show any emotions. My dad just spent the last few years in prison for hurting that man. After serving seven years, he came home last week. We never talk about it. My mom tried to talk to me about it one time, but I didn’t know what to say. Mom concluded that I was in shock and she didn’t press me anymore about it.”

Dr. Finch’s eyebrows raised up. He opened his mouth as if he was about to say something, but I didn’t let him speak. I started to laugh and he shut his mouth. He looked at me questionably and asked, “What’s funny about that, Daniel?”

I continued to laugh as I said, “It’s funny to me because now it makes sense.”

“What makes sense?” Dr. Finch asked.

I answered, “I guess that I’ve been in shock for the past seven years.”

Coming Soon!

http://www.feliciajohnsonauthor.com

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“OK Danny Boy” Presale, “HER” by Felicia Johnson and Special Edition Bookmarks #bookswag

Now you can purchase your own autographed/signed books.

Get “HER” by Felicia Johnson paperback book, autographed with a personal note from the author to the reader. Included is a Mr. Sharp and “HER” bookmark.

If you’re interested in getting the bookmarks ONLY please see instructions below.

Starting today, you can purchase a presale, special edition of “OK Danny Boy” by Felicia Johnson. The book releases in April 2017. This special edition includes an autographed/signed copy of the book with a personal note to the reader in paperback and an “OK Danny Boy” limited edition bookmark.

“HER” by Felicia Johnson Autographed Book with personal note to reader: click below to purchase.
https://www.paypal.com/cgi-bin/webscr?cmd=_s-xclick&hosted_button_id=GLLU6RZACQRJN

“HER” by Felicia Johnson paperback book, autographed with a personal note from the author to the reader. Included is a Mr. Sharp and “HER” bookmark. Click below to purchase.
https://www.paypal.com/cgi-bin/webscr?cmd=_s-xclick&hosted_button_id=QGLM7E5NXN8XL

Mr. Sharp and “HER” by Felicia Johnson (bookmarks only): click below to purchase.
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“OK Danny Boy” by Felicia Johnson Presale Autographed/Signed book and special edition “OK Danny Boy” bookmark.
Special note: Special Edition bookmarks will be mailed out at the time of purchase. The presale book will mail out on the release date in April 2017.
click below to purchase.
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Ghostwriting is YOU talking and me writing. YOUR voice = your story.

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What is a ghost writer?

How can a ghost writer help you write your story? If a ghost writer does help you write your story, will it still be your story?

What is the difference between a biographer and a ghost writer?

These are very good questions to ask when you have a story to tell, but feel like you may need someone to help you write.

A biographer is someone who will actually write the story for you. They may write the story in their own voice, and it may be more about facts and less about personal storytelling, but more like a story about you rather than a story that is coming from. You may not do any writing at all if you let the biography do it all for you. The biographer may interview you as part of the research, but they’re doing the integral part of writing and just telling your story for you. A biographer will write the story in whole for you, but not necessarily as you.

As a ghostwriter, I’m here to help you write your own story. I help you find your voice and shape content for your story to structure it out one chapter at a time. It will be in your voice because YOU are the author. I’ll structure and write out the details and points that we discuss for your story. However, it is you who decides the characters, people, places, things, memories, emotions, humor, drama, points in life that are relevant to the content of your story.  You decide what is to be included in your book. Any additional information, omissions and changes are entirely up to you.

We will write up drafts for your chapters and I will send it to you for review. It is good when you read the drafts and ideas related to your story because the more that we write the words will start to flow. If you keep a journal of your experiences or record your thoughts, it makes it easier to write them out into a structured outline. We can use those memories to write out your story in your voice. You may want to talk about something in your book and once it’s written and you read it you may decide that you don’t want it in your story, that is fine. This is part of the writing process. It’s great when you want to add more to the voice of the story and you want to make changes in your book because that means your creative juices are flowing! That’s the point of me helping you with ghostwriting.

Overall, my job is to help you get your ideas flowing so that together, we can write the story out of your system and put it down onto paper. Right now, I’m only doing ghostwriting. I’m not a biographer. However, I do know a couple of great biographers who are wonderful storytellers. I can provide recommendations if you’re looking for a biographer.

Contact me if you need help with writing your story. Visit http://feliciajohnsonauthor.com/services/ghostwriting/. Email me at herthebook@gmail.com.

“HER” by Felicia Johnson Spin Off Novel “OK Danny Boy” Sample & Video Intro

“OK Danny Boy” by Felicia Johnson is a spin off of Felicia’s debut novel “HER”. “OK Danny Boy” is due to release in Summer 2016 during production of the book to film adaptation of “HER” the movie based on the novel by Felicia Johnson. Learn more about “HER” at http://www.herthebook.com and Felicia Johnson, Author and International Speaker at http://www.feliciajohnsonauthor.com.

OK, Danny Boy

By Felicia Johnson

Chapter 1

“My father probably would have killed my mother. Theresa probably would have killed herself, and I probably would have done it, too,” I say.

“Were you scared?” Kristen asks.

It is the first time anyone has ever asked me that question. I think about her question for a moment. I sit across the table from a girl who looks like she can break at any moment. I want to be careful because I have a feeling that if I say the wrong thing, look at her the wrong way, or even make an offensive noise, she will start crying. Although, at this very moment, I am holding in a serious gas bubble that wants to pop right out of my ass. I release it, silently. Relief. I don’t care anymore.

Kristen is a peculiar girl. She doesn’t seem to say much. Her emotional outbursts, dramatic facial expressions and bandaged wrists tell me a lot about her. She is broken, like most of us who are doing time in Bent Creek Hospital for various mental health issues. We are the lost and troubled teenagers with screwed up parents, a raw fetish for self-harming and sick regrets of our suicidal inclinations. It’s kind of like a messed up joke to think about how many times we fail each time we try to die, but we don’t really want to die. It feels like one more thing that we can’t seem to get right.

Kristen has scars up and down her arms and a frown that sticks to her face. When we first met, Kristen’s frown was the first feature I noticed. Janine introduced her to everyone on her first day. Kristen and Janine are roommates. We all have roommates. Unfortunately, even I had a roommate. His name was Rocky. He’s no longer here.

Patients at Bent Creek Hospital are separated into co-ed groups. The groups keep the numbers of jaded youth from growing too large against the smaller number of therapists and counselors who treat our mental health complexities. Their jobs are to shrink our minds from overwhelmed humans to zombified dust bunnies with state of the art coping mechanisms, new findings from studies of techniques that prove useful for young minds such as DBT and CBT along with the latest, shiny new drug. At least, that’s what I used to think about the system.

Right now, I’m off of meds. I can’t believe it. I can’t believe most of the things that I’ve seemed to overcome in the last few weeks. It seems as if the events that took place before I came into Bent Creek hospital happened years ago instead of weeks ago. That person who broke down and couldn’t cope with what had happened doesn’t seem like it was me. But it was me. If it wasn’t for Dr. Finch, Dr. Bent, Dr. Pelchat and people in my group like Janine, Kristen, Tai and believe it or not, even Rocky, I wouldn’t have noticed the difference in myself.

We were all together in Group One. It must be fate because all of us seem to have the same diagnosis of sorts. Diagnoses range from some form of depression, whether it’s Bi-Polar I or Bi-Polar II, mixed with something else; a dual diagnosis? While the other groups have their dissociative identities, hair eaters, schizophrenics and the demonically colorful personalities of the insane youth with sociopathic and psychopathic tendencies, our group seems to dwell right in the middle of those who don’t seem to fit just one single problem. We don’t have a problem. We have problems. Plural. Therefore, I was given a couple of diagnoses of Bipolar I (complete with manic episodes and Major Depression) and Obsessive Compulsive Disorder also known as OCD. Having to deal with that on top of having Juvenile Diabetes seemed to be enough to keep the medicine cabinet full at home.

Looking at Kristen is a lot different from when I look at Janine. Janine is obviously thin. She could be mistaken for a model except she has some major flaws that probably would keep her off of a runway. She isn’t naturally thin. I can tell that she makes herself that way, unhealthily. Dark purple pools circle the skin around her eyes like bruises. Janine tries to wear make up, but she has to put on so much to cover up her discolored skin. Her hair is long, but it is thinning. Her teeth and fingers are discolored from what I figure comes from when she makes herself throw up, if she eats anything. Her mood fluctuates frequently, especially after Dr. Cuvo gave up and disappeared. After he left, she and I grew closer. Janine is beautiful and angry.

Other people seem to see what they want to see in us. However, we know that we’re nothing at all like how we see ourselves. In an odd way, I see Janine as a lot like myself.

Kristen is a different story. She doesn’t cover up her physical flaws. She shows her bandages. She doesn’t even try to hide her face with her hair, always pulling her hair back in a ponytail, as if to make you look at her. Ironically, she doesn’t look anyone in the eyes. She opens and closes like a broken cabinet that won’t shut all of the way unless you slam it hard enough.

I can tell that she’s like the others. She sees something in me. She sees something in Janine. She sees something else within herself but whatever it is, she won’t let it go. I can see it too. It’s dark and I cannot define it. Kristen scares me and she intrigues me because, unlike Janine, she’s not easy to read or understand. She was difficult from the very start.

It seemed like Janine tried to help Kristen feel welcomed. She tried to include Kristen in our group. However, Janine had insisted that Kristen must have disliked us because when Kristen first arrived at Bent Creek, she wouldn’t talk to us, nor would she smile. Janine and I made a bet against each other. I bet Janine that Kristen would smile before the end of her first week at Bent Creek and Janine bet that she wouldn’t smile. Of course, I won that bet. Janine had to give me her evening snacks for a whole week after I had won the bet! Little did I know at the time, the loss of that bet wasn’t such a huge loss for Janine.

Nonetheless, it was hard work to get Kristen to smile. Eventually, she did smile. After the day that I made her smile, she started to open up more. It seemed to help since we were all in the same group. I didn’t want to give up on her. I tried to make her laugh and talk to us about why she is here at Bent Creek, but she seemed too sad to speak about it without getting upset.

On today, of all days, the day before I am scheduled to be released, this broken and attractively mysterious girl decides to open her mouth and have a real conversation with me. It seems like it’s completely unprovoked on my part! At least, I don’t think that I did anything to draw her attention to me.

I am working on a sketch quietly in the commons area on the Adolescent Ward. Drawing helps pass the time. Only one more day until I can go home with my mom and Mom-Mom. I don’t want to cause any trouble or lose my temper or let anything trigger me into having a manic episode again. All I can think about is how much I want to smoke a cigarette. I can’t wait until tomorrow! I even asked my mom to bring me a pack of Marlboro’s to the hospital so that as soon as I am free, I can take in what I have been craving for over a month!

I haven’t told anyone in my group that I am going home because I want to be as inconspicuous about it as I possibly can. I don’t want the others to feel badly and then start acting weird around me because I’m leaving.

I don’t know. Maybe Kristen sensed something in me that gave away my secret because she walked right up to the table where I am sitting and started talking to me. She surprised me because I was concentrating on drawing straight lines without shaking. I haven’t tried to draw since Rocky killed himself. That was a messed up time. Kristen was there, but she hasn’t asked me about it. It’s a good thing. I don’t want to think about it, nor talk about it anymore.

Honestly, I am not prepared to talk about any of this stuff. Really, I’m not ready to open up about what happened with my mom, my dad and Theresa. I’m ready to move past all of that. But Kristen has a way about her that I don’t understand. It is the mystery behind her sudden interest that pulls me in and moves me to want to talk to her. When she asked me if I was scared, I may have seemed to open up to her right away, but in my mind, it seemed to take a little more than minute for me to answer. I am thinking about what she asked and the fact that she is the first person who has asked me if was scared.

Kristen’s eyes glistens as she waits for me to speak. I replay her question in my mind.

“Were you scared?” Kristen asked.

When I think about it, I remember everything very clearly. From the moment that I knew that I was in love with her to my dad getting out of prison, and when my mom almost gave up on our family to Theresa’s suicide up to now, this very moment. Here I am, sitting across from Kristen. She’s the odd girl that spoke up. Kristen is the inscrutable girl that scared me and amazed me and who dared to ask me the question that no one, not even Dr. Finch, had ever asked me.

Was I scared?

“Her” The Book To Film Hatchfund Donation Technical Difficulties!

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Attention: anyone who has tried to donate to our Hatchfund project to turn Her the book into Her the movie! There have been some technical difficulties for the past few days and a few people have reported not being able to donate to the campaign.

If you have visited the Hatchfund project page and tried to make a donation, but the page timed out, we have other options for you. Please call our project manager, Erin, at 877-893-0587 in order to make your tax-free donation. Alternatively, you can mail a check (payable to AIM Hatchfund) to:

AIM Hatchfund
1905 Harney Street
Omaha, NE 68102-2367

Remember that we need all of these donations in as soon as possible so we can make our goal to get started with this project, so please donate ASAP! Deadline is 9/28/14 so please don’t delay!

Visit http://www.herthebook.com

Visit and PLEASE SHARE WITH EVERYONE! http://www.hatchfund.org/project/mental_health_novel_to_film_adaptation

Thank you again for all of your donations and shares, and don’t forget that if you share with three people who donate at least $25 apiece, then you can get the first level perk!

Mental Health Novel-to-Film Adaptation Her by Felicia Johnson

When I was 15, my best friend committed suicide. I found out after her death that she had a Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD) stemming from the trauma of childhood abuse. I now work and volunteer in the mental health field, I see everyday how important it is for people to understand mental disorders and the havoc they can wreak on a person’s life and relationships. I know how imperative it is for people to be diagnosed early and begin to come to terms with their diagnosis and have a plan for symptom management. Taking pieces from journals I wrote about my past dealing with my own abuse and my life with Holl…

via Mental Health Novel-to-Film Adaptation.