Marketing Efforts – But First, A Word From Today’s Sponsor

On May 9th, I advertised on Kindle Nation (a website) and also in an email blast on Book Gorilla.  Marketing is such an expensive and daunting task.  One day cost me $139, and that was cheap!  Some sites with over a million subscribers charge $400 a day or more, and they are very picky about what books they take.  Nevertheless, Conflicting Hearts is my baby.  It’s my life.  It’s me inside out in Rachel’s place.  And like other authors, I want it to succeed.  You can see the Kindle Nation placement by Clicking Here.

Though I have only a few reviews on Kindle (six as of today) and twenty-three on Goodreads, I have received numerous comments on Facebook and private emails that have brought tears to my eyes.  Those who have been abused are touched and encouraged by the story, which confirms to me I did the right thing in pulling my inner child out of the closet and standing her in front of my reader’s eyes.  In that, I find my satisfaction.

However, like many other authors, I have my discouraging days when it comes to marketing.  Before Thursday, Conflicting Hearts had fallen in the ranks to over 240,000.  I hadn’t sold but a handful of books last month.  My ranking this morning made it down to 2,100, which is great, but not quite enough push to get it into the top 100′s. Once you’re in the 100 best sellers for a genre, the book seems to feed itself in purchases.  That happened to me once last May with one of my historical romances.  It was first place in free and then one of my other paid books made it to the Movers and Shakers list and the Historical Romance Best Seller paid list.  It was a happy month.

On top of it, there are so many books on the market that have one theme now, it’s almost overwhelming.  Since Fifty Shades of Grey hit big time, authors (like those who jumped on the vampire craze) are riding the waves of the tie me up and abuse me craze. The male characters are totally opposite of anything I’d ever want, yet for some reason women are drawn to these types of stories.  I scratch my head because like Rachel, all I ever wanted was to find tenderness and unconditional love from a man.  Hence, I find no pleasure in the current trend.  Yet, if you want to make it big, just look at the best sellers and you’ll see what sells.

I hope once again to list Conflicting Hearts on Kindle Nation and on another top selling list at the same time probably in a month or two.  I’m going to try it simultaneously and see if that will rocket me up into the top 100.  For those who have been so kind as to buy my book this Thursday, thank you!  I hope you enjoy the story.

Fondly,

J.D. Burrows

“No”

“No”

 Adverb – “A negative used to express dissent, denial, or refusal, as in response to a question or request.”

Dictionary.com

No – such a little word with so much power, however, the abused seem to have no power to utter it when needed.  My next confession is that I have an inability to say no.

I have been keenly aware that uttering this word has been a huge problem in my life, especially when I know something is not good for me or someone is abusing me.  There is no strength within me to utter the denial or refusal to protect myself. At times I really wish I could clearly understand why I have such a brick wall in this area.  Frankly, I can make my own psychological assumptions regarding this problem in my life.  It’s connected with my childhood sexual abuse.

When I think back to those moments when the teenage boy abused me at such a young age, I can remember the fear I felt inwardly.  My mind can clearly see his white briefs and his bulging sexuality before my eyes.  I knew something was not right when his hard erection pressed against me, but I didn’t say no.  The Hershey candy bar was enticing, so I relented to what he wanted to do.  I kept my mouth shut, when I should have screamed.  I laid underneath him, when I should have fought for myself because it hurt.  Instead fear ruled and I felt powerless and speechless.

Fast forward the years ahead when I became involved with individuals who were abusive and lived in situations that were unhealthy.  Did I learn from my childhood experience to say no?  No. Once again, that word would not leave my tongue. My lips were sealed while my heart pounded.  Afraid of what would happen if I said . . .no.  I’ve been counseled to be assertive, stand up for myself, create boundaries, leave abusive relationships, and put my foot down when I’m being used by others. Yet, I’ve been helpless to carry that behavior out. As I look back at my life, so much of my own misery came about because I couldn’t say no.

You may not have this problem and are having difficulty comprehending.  I can only say that when I am faced with a situation where I should utter this word, something inside my mind shuts down.  I feel like a deer caught in the headlights.  There is no movement on my part.  My lips part so air can enter, but nothing comes out.  My mind goes blank.  My heart pounds within my chest.  Nerves prick me, and instead of asserting myself, I relent, surrounded by a false sense of security.  I let the situation or person run right over me, like a car would a deer in the middle of the road.  And no one suffers for it, but me.

After all these years of dealing with this problem, I have come to at least understand it thoroughly.  I recognize afterward that I should have said no, when instead I was silent.  Often, my behavior turns to complaining to myself in private, or maybe bitching to a friend or coworker, while feeling utterly helpless.  Like, Rachel, I rag on myself for my weakness.

“Okay.” I’m feeling the usual deer in the headlight syndrome. I can’t think of anything to say, because my brain is frozen. He gets what he wants, and I can’t say no.

“Okay, five o’clock in the lobby,” I repeat.

“See you then,” he replies and hangs up.

Immediately, I feel like I’m on the verge of a panic attack. I hate doing things I don’t want to do. Now I’m mad at myself for giving in to his offer and want to throw up. I wander back to my desk clutching my phone with a death grip. I don’t want to do this, I moan again to myself, but now I’m committed. Stand him up, the cowardly little voice inside suggests. No, I can’t, I dismiss the taunt.

On rare occasions, I muddle over the situation, go back to that person, and somehow, by the grace of God, tell them with great fear that I do not want to do what they are asking.  However, that doesn’t happen often.

I’m not sure if any of you have the same problem, but I suspect if you have been sexually abused that you do.  Well, once again, be assured you are not alone.

It amazes me how two letters in the English language can have so much power over an individual.  We either overcome or succumb to our ability or inability to use “n” and “o” together.  After all these years, that sick feeling is still in the pit of my stomach when I need to utter the word in response to an uncomfortable request.  One of these days, I hope it leaves.

Dealing With Depression

When I wrote about Rachel’s battle with depression, it was really a confessional on my part.  Just like her, it’s been a constant battle on and off medication. Rachel states, “When I think I’ve got the depression beat, I go off the pills and feel cheerful for a few months. Then stress, loneliness, and heartache take their toll again, and I’m calling my doctor begging for the return of the purple-colored pill.” (It’s the white pill now).

In my younger years I didn’t understand depression.  I never talked about it to anyone.  There have been periods when I’ve been upbeat and happy, and there have been periods in my life when I’ve barely been able to function.  I’m sure you know the symptoms of social anxiety, sleeping too much, crying all the time, feeling tired, wishing the emotional pain would go away – the list goes on and on.

I didn’t seek out medications until my late forties/early fifties.  My verbally abusive marriage had taken its toll upon my life.  After going through abuse, divorce, being unemployed, moving five times in an 18-month period, I had already gathered every stress-related event out there that throws the normal individual into the dumps.  In counseling, and after searching the Internet on the different medications, I begged a doctor for help – through emotional tears, of course.  Then came the pills.

After being on medication for a year and thinking I had it beat, I weaned myself off the drug and went on with my life.  Then all hell broke loose again, stress returned, and so did my depression.  I would be lying if I didn’t tell you I struggled with the shame of depression, as well.  You always think you’re mentally ill, or in the Christian circles, out of touch with the source of joy.  Yes, even the church condemns you for a medically-inflicted disease.

When my doctor finally sat me down and told me that all I had been through had depleted my brain of the necessary chemicals it needed to function properly, the guilt lifted. I had never told him of the abuse, though.  The pills helped to restore that imbalance.  Once again, I felt great, went off the drug, and last November found myself in a fetal position upon my bed.  I could barely look at anyone in the eyes.  I could barely concentrate at work. I stayed in my pajamas all day on the weekend, didn’t shower, and didn’t leave my condo.  Tears were plenty, and during that time I wrote Conflicting Hearts at my lowest point.  There were times I literally wept on the keyboard writing certain scenes, especially the ending because I’ve never met my Ian. Finally, I called the doctor and told him, “I need the pills.”  It took nearly three months for them to kick in, and only this past February have I started to come out of it.  Though when days are stressful, I find a continuing battle and pull to go in the other direction.

Recently, I started searching the correlation between depression in adults who were sexually abused as children.  Here are some of the comments I’ve discovered on medical websites:

• “Numerous studies have reported that child sexual abuse is related to adult mental health problems including depression.” (The Healthy Place, “The Relation Between Depression and Sexual Abuse, Violence, PTSD”
• The National Institute of Health, did a case study of depression in adults who were abused as children. “Objective of the study:  To examine the association between sexual abuse in childhood and adult depression in women. Here are the results.  Conclusion:  A positive association between child sexual abuse and depression was confirmed, but this was confined to more severe abuse (penetration or attempted penetration).” Read the study HERE.

I could list more, but it’s enough to say there is a reason, and it’s not our fault.

While writing this article I want to express that I’m not constantly dragging myself around with a glum look on my face (though some at work may argue that point).  There have been times in my life of great joy, laughter, and peace.  Situations regarding position or possessions in life have never affected me.  It’s the stress of life that pulls me down.  I think if my brain was normal, it probably would handle those situations better.  For some reason, stress quickly depletes my brain of the needed chemicals to cope.

The book “Stolen Tomorrows – Understanding and Treating Women’s Childhood Sexual Abuse” by Steven Levenkron, confirms the fact that there are chemical and physical effects of trauma on the brain.  He states, “So it is with the molested child: as she grows to adulthood, she is continually affected by her earlier victimization, not even aware of her her perspective has been altered. – Life experiences can change the way the brain functions.”

So, I’ve said all this to say to you, that if you have been abused as a child and wrestled with depression as an adult, you are not alone.  Once again, the effects of one selfish act upon an innocent child are widespread.  I’ve always believed that understanding ourselves, why we act the way we do, or struggle with the residual effect, is an important part of overcoming.

In conclusion, if you have been sexually abused as a child, I encourage you to leave the victim mentality behind, rise above, and be the strong survivor who overcomes the past – even if it takes a little white pill to do it.

Childhood Sexual Abuse Effects Future Generations?

What a shocking article on Yahoo News! Women Abused as Children are More Likely to Have Autistic Children.

“The most severe combination of physical, emotional and sexual abuse meant a woman in the study was 3.5 times more likely to have an autistic child than a woman who hadn’t been abused.”

Once again, the lasting effects of sexual abuse. If you abuse a child, you may damage the future generation as well.

I noticed in the comments, however, many scoff at the findings of this study.  It just reaffirms to me that people really do not understand the lasting effects abuse has upon the child and how the trauma changes a child’s brain.  Perhaps people just don’t want to acknowledge it, don’t care, or it’s the pedophiles debunking the study to cover the evil results of their acts.

At least the medical community is now focusing upon the effects with these recent articles regarding obesity and now autism.

Success on HubPages

Thank you to HubPages who didn’t silence me.  I posted an article on Squiddo regarding the Effects of Childhood Sexual Abuse on Adult Relationships, and they tagged that one as inappropriate content.  Silenced once more, I went over to HubPages, and finally, it stayed up.

If you’d like to read the article, click here.

The Truth About Childhood Sexual Abuse – Inappropriate Content?

I’m inappropriate content.  My author website at http://vickihopkins.com.  My book website at http://conflictinghearts.com.  What?

Well, the other day I went to my storyboard for Conflicting Hearts on Pinterest.  Apparently, users have reported this board as containing “inappropriate content” and Pinterest has blocked me from uploading any pins from the websites above.  If you click on my links to my websites, it gives a stern warning to proceed at your own risk because it contains spam or inappropriate content.

Wow.  What can I say? Talking about the occurrence of childhood sexual abuse and how it affects a man or woman is “inappropriate content.” Apparently, I’ve offended someone.

Of course, my wonderful fans who have read the book have been very supportive over the matter and just as shocked as I am over the tag by Pinterest.  I did email them.  They did not answer except to say they closed the ticket.  Actually, they ignored it.  They didn’t go to my author website to see if it was inappropriate or not.  To compensate, I’ve placed a note on the board refuting the claim.  Once again, I’ll email Pinterest.  Let’s see if they are the blind monkey again in the middle not willing to do anything about the problem.

If they won’t comply, I’ll leave the board as is, but set another storyboard up on my own blogging platform to circumvent the problem.  I love creating visual storyboards to my books, and Conflicting Hearts is no exception.  However, perhaps I should put a disclaimer that my true story of childhood sexual abuse, set within a fiction book, may upset their ears, eyes, and mouth.

How sad there is little empathy from someone regarding the plight of sexually abused children.  After all, it’s inappropriate to speak of such things. I should be silenced.  I should be gagged.

I can only say that I will not be silenced.  What happened to me still happens every day.  Selfish individuals touch innocent children for their own sexual pleasure.  It’s reality.  Deal with it.

The Laundry List: Part 2 – Self-Esteem

“For most of my life, my self-esteem has been in the toilet. I’ve been back in therapy for almost two months. I know it’s not much, but I can say I think my self-esteem has made it to the toilet seat.”

He laughs. “Well, that’s a powerful analogy.”

“Hey, works for me. One of these days, I hope to get off, wipe myself, and get on with life.”

Rachel has self-esteem issues.  It’s part of that laundry list of residual effects of childhood sexual abuse.  She never has anything good to say about herself.  Listen to her internal dialogue of self-loathing:

 I’m such a ninny – Finally, the klutz in me rules – I hate my nerves and lack of confidence – I hate my photo – I hate it when I do this – I’ve hated myself, wallowed in shame and guilt – I’m a mess again as I struggle with self-doubt – All I know is that I’m never good enough – I’m a masturbating slut.

Since I’ve written this book, I’ve spent quite a few hours surfing and commenting on forum boards for the sexually abused.  One underlying theme I find everywhere is the self-loathing victims struggle with on a constant basis.  I’ll be the first to raise my hand and confess that my view of myself as a woman suffers.  I have very little self-confidence.  I’ve never really loved myself or considered myself worthy of love.  Growing up as a Christian, it was a paramount truth that I was supposed to embrace that God loves me.  I have struggled with that concept my entire life.

Why does childhood sexual abuse destroy our self-esteem?  It’s a complex question.  I often feel bad for young girls or women, whose posts I’ll read on forum boards, that hate and condemn themselves as worthless.  A part of me wants to tell them they are not and sometimes I do comment to encourage.  I remind them it’s not their fault!  They are not to blame!  I want to take the hurt away, but truthfully that same attitude remains with my little girl within more often than not.

Each of us have been conditioned in our various situations.  Some of our abuse came from fathers, some from strangers, some from family members, or from a neighbor.  Those individuals played an integral part in the formation of our lives.  We were either duped, enticed, threatened, or forced to submit to their behavior upon our bodies.  The result upon our life is profound shame for having been violated.  We consider ourselves tainted, soiled, damaged, and worthless.  We blame ourselves for letting this happen.  As we look in the mirror, we don’t see a person we love — we see one we hate.  Poor Rachel thinks her self-esteem is in the toilet and rightly so.  Her view of herself is one of worthlessness.  She hates how she acts, feels, and looks.  Her self-esteem has been grown from her experiences.  Ian is the first in her life to show her true love and acceptance.  He tries to convince her she is worthy.  “Besides, you’re a wonderful woman, but you just don’t see your value.”

So how do we turn our self-loathing around to self-acceptance and self-love? Well, I don’t have a degree in psychiatry.  I’m not going to give my readers platitudes. As Rachel said, “There are so many tormented and hurting people that it makes me sad. I wish I could help them, but I can’t. What can I offer? Comfort? A hug? Hang in there, it will get better platitudes? Heal thyself, my mind reminds me. How, I have no idea where to start.”  Eventually, it comes down to reprogramming ourselves, I think, to turn off the negative internal dialogue that reinforces our unworthiness.  It’s a process and not an overnight success story.  In addition, having individuals in our life to rebuild our self-esteem through positive reinforcement is so important.  To be loved, accepted, and encouraged, is a lifeline to change.

I  guess in the end, each of us must find the road to healing, and somewhere along the way like Rachel, we’ll pull ourselves out of the toilet, sit on the seat, and eventually get up and wipe ourselves.  Most of what I feel about myself waffles daily.  When I struggle with depression, then myself esteem is at its worse.  When I’m back on medication and keeping busy finding validation in my writing, I feel better about myself.  Yet when I do something stupid, I’m the first to say, “You’re such a ninny.”  Perhaps one of these days, I’ll conquer the urge to silent my inner critic forever, and I pray you do too.

Hugs to you all,
J.D. Burrows

Cover Change

Choosing a cover for a book is painful. When I originally did the cover for Conflicting Hearts I spent hours looking for model photographs on a variety of stock photo websites. I came across two models that, at least for me, represented Rachel and Ian.

With that in mind, I was on a mission to make the cover relate to the book, so I placed them with Cannon Beach background behind the two. For some reason, the cover came out very, very dark in the print version. I picked a matte cover this time (very soft, rather than glossy), and I think that may have contributed to the color distortion. Anyway, I didn’t like the cover. It just didn’t grab me.

I suppose I could have chosen a white bathrobe tie, instead of a grey tie, and maybe the message would have been picked up! You never know. A million books sold with a tie on the cover cover. Of course, a lot of books are filled with six-pack abs too. Though the model for Ian has great abs, I just don’t like the partial naked look. I’m a prude, though the content of the book is far from prudish!

In any event, I scoured the pictures again of these two models and chose these two. I loved the picture for Rachel. It’s so stunning in color and contrast, that it shows up very nicely on websites. Today, I uploaded to my printer the new cover, but it will take some time to cycle the old one out. In any event, this is the last time I’ll change it. I hope it’s a bit more eye-catching to the public. We’ll see!

Thanks to everyone who gave me their input on Facebook. I appreciate all of you who have read Conflicting Hearts and support me. You have no idea how much it means to me personally.

Connection Between Obesity and Sexual Abuse

The article I’m about to share with you deserves attention.  I came across it this morning, “Obesity: An Insidious Effect of Childhood Trauma.” Frankly, I’m not surprised this is true, but I’m surprised it’s taken so long for the medical community and others to put two and two together.  It states, “ Vincent Felitti, a professor of medicine at UCSD and founder of Kaiser Permanente’s Department of Preventative Medicine found that in one sample of 286 obese people, 50% reported being sexually abused as a child.  And he is not alone in reporting such findings.”

What is interesting about the article is that it’s not just the mental trauma that causes obesity, but the physical trauma to a child’s body and mind that changes the biological structure of who we are.  It doesn’t take rocket science to understand that sexual abuse affects a woman’s ability to cope and diminishes or destroys her self-esteem.

I know that some swing the pendulum in the other direction with anorexia and bulimia.  Others turn to food as a coping method to ease the pain. Whichever direction the pendulum swings, it’s a direct response to how we feel about ourselves internally.

I’ll be the first to raise my hand that I have weight issues.  Yes, I’ve struggled with my weight throughout my life.  It spiraled out of control when I spent 18 years of marriage to a verbally abusive man that demeaned me in multiple ways and made me feel even more unloved and worthless.  The constant barrage of degrading remarks and anger, frankly turned me to the refrigerator for comfort.  Even early in our marriage, when I was a mere 20 pounds overweight, he threatened to leave me.  As the weight increased to 20, 30, 40 and above, of course, I came to the point of not caring what he thought.  He gave me no comfort or affirmation I was worth loving. I recognize now that because of my childhood, I was more susceptible and vulnerable to additional damage due to his treatment of my already wounded soul.

Why we do the things we do as women are deep psychological questions each of us need to search out.  I think some of it stems from self-loathing.  Our anger over our sexual abuse is somehow turned inward, as if we are to blame that it happened. Somehow, we turn that anger around and end up in a self-punishment cycle.  We attack our physical looks by either starvation or overeating and become less attractive to the opposite sex.  Once on the Dr. Phil show I heard him ask a guest if she stayed fat as a means of protection. She didn’t want to be noticed and desired by men. Her answer came through tears because he had hit the root of the problem. Perhaps there others who may be reading this that don’t have food issues because of their sexual abuse, but struggle with other debilitating habits and self harm. It’s just a different avenue, but it brings is all to the same destination – self-loathing.

I’ve tried to lose weight many times through the past years.  There have been times I’ve succeeded and took off 40 pounds only to be rejected by the next man I met.  Then the weight returned, and I’m constantly level at the same 200-220 at my 5’6″ height.  To be truthful, I don’t have the motivation to lose weight.  Most of that, I know, to my own shame is because of the struggle over my self-image.  As I told my counselor, it’s hard to believe differently about yourself through some mental imposed mantra in my head telling my brain to believe something it doesn’t have the capacity to comprehend.  In addition, when you don’t have someone in your life to constantly give you verbal and physical affirmation that you are loved, precious, and wanted, you tend to be live in a bankrupt state unable to produce the love for yourself needed to be healthy and move on.

Since, I’ve never met my Ian in life, I have turned to writing as a form of validation.  It’s a small part of me that I know I have the skill to perform.  I may not be a best-selling author on the USA Today or NY Times list (though I wish I were), but I do know I have written books and blogs that have touched others.  With that simple act, I find a piece of me worth loving because I dare to be transparent to the world around me and let others know they are not alone.

In conclusion, being overweight is bad enough from the stigma and judgmental attitudes of a society that constantly bombards us to be thin — not only for our health, but to be accepted and worthy of love. What doctors need to know, besides trying to embarrass or scare us into change (which irks the hell out of me), is that first the underlying problem must be identified, dealt with, and resolved to some point of healing in order to find the courage to change ourselves for the better.

As the article states, “Treatment for obesity is almost as complicated as the problem itself.  For those with a history of trauma, therapy may be an important component to assist with the development of better coping mechanisms and ways to deal with painful feelings.  But obesity is a problem that usually requires more than one type of intervention.”

J.D. Burrows

This Is Who I Am

This summer I was introduced to the book Fifty Shades of Grey by a colleague at work.  (Yes, I have a day job.)  I had heard about the book and frankly didn’t care to read it. However, to be agreeable over my friend’s suggestion, I took the dark plunge.

I’m not sure if any of my readers have ever had one of those “defining moments” in life.  The dictionary defines a “defining moment” as:  “A point at which the essential nature or character of a person, group, etc., is revealed or identified.”

It happened on my green recliner in my living room as I was making my way through the book and reached page 226.  Ana asks Christian why he is the way he is.  These words met my eyes:  “I don’t know any other way. Anastasia. This is who I am.”

I literally stopped after reading those words and gasped.  No joke.  The words were spoken by Christian Grey, the handsome billionaire with quirky sexual desires as a dominant male.  He’s into the bondage and pain gig with his women.  Nevertheless, the reason for his propensities stem from childhood abuse.  This is who he is–he doesn’t know any other way.

Putting aside the book entirely, whether you like it or not, I can only say that those words were a defining moment for me.  In fact, I met E.L. James at a book signing in Portland, Oregon, and asked her to autograph that very page.  She did.  I don’t think she has a clue why.

The realization of who I am, because of my past, came as a huge relief.  It is what spurred me to write Conflicting Hearts.  For the first time in my life I understood myself.  A point of acceptance flashed through my soul.  The light went on.  This is who I am.

I think as sexually abused individuals we need to come to a defining point in our lives and a place of acceptance, rather than of self-hatred.  For most of my life I frankly ignored who I was because of my abuse.  Part of the reason came from my blindness regarding the matter.  I used to tell myself it never really affected me.  As I look back over my life, it’s quite obvious I was in denial or just plain ignorant.

If I’ve learned anything, it’s that we each need to learn about what makes us tick as individuals.  You can do that in a variety of ways either through counseling or self-help books to understand yourself on a more deeper level.  With understanding comes acceptance.  With acceptance comes peace.  And with peace, you are more inclined not to be so harsh upon yourself. There comes a period where you stop blaming yourself for who you are, the feeling of being dirty is washed away, and the understanding that you are not to blame frees you from shame.  Ultimately, when you take that journey, you are faced with decisions to seek healing, forgive others, forgive yourself, move on, and find a productive healthy place in life.

Rachel did just that.  She came to that defining moment in her life when she broke up with Ian, because loving him was more important than staying with the child in the dark closet. There finally came a place where she looked at the little girl within and gave her the chance to grow into a mature woman by receiving the unconditional love of another human being.

Of course, the reality is that not all of us will find our Ian in life.  I’ve never found mine, and I’m about to turn 63 years old this month.  What I have found, though, is myself.  I understand who I am, why I feel the way I do, why I do the things that I do, and I’m learning to love myself.  That, my friend, is the greatest challenge of them all and one I hope to ultimately conquer.

Fondly,
J.D. Burrows

P.S.  If you’d like to read what I really thought of Fifty Shades of Grey, you can read my review below posted and linked to Goodreads. Whether it’s wonderful to you or a piece of trash, it doesn’t matter.  Perhaps you may think my defining moment should have come kneeling at the altar.  I’ve knelt there before, and it didn’t arrive until 37 years later.  I can only say that God moves in mysterious ways.

Fifty Shades of Grey by E.L. James

My rating: 3 of 5 stars

Originally, I had no intent of reading this book and had only heard about it occasionally here and there. Then one day, a friend at work left it on my chair face up. :inserts heart attack: She gushed about the series, I wrinkled my nose, and took the book not to hurt her feelings. On my way out of the building, I shoved it under my arm and got into the elevator, having not yet read the iconic line of, “what is it about elevators?”

That week I had company, so I hid Fifty Shades under a coat in the back seat of my car for five days before I had the nerve to take it into my home after they departed. Then I set it on the dining room table and it sat there for another five days. Finally, it became occasional bathroom reading, as I skimmed through it to see how bad the erotica parts were before deciding to go any farther. After my eyeballs bled, I let it sit again for a few more days. Since I’ve been single for 13 years with no sex, a book like this tends to be torture. Finally, I sat down and began to read it.

My first shock was “holy crap” this book is set in Portland, Oregon where I live. Okay, what a coincidence. My second impression centered around the character of Ana. Frankly, she made me laugh. Her internal voice amused me, in spite of her repetitive “holy craps,” “inner goddess,” etc. etc. Yes, EL James is a repetitive writer throughout and probably didn’t use the cool program of Autocrit that shows all those suckers. I found myself giggling through the early encounters between her and Grey. Okay, I thought to myself, I can handle this…so far…cute and amusing.

The unbelievable fact of Ana’s simple life is over played, as far as I’m concerned. No cell phone? No computer? It would have been better had Grey just replaced a relic of a computer and outdated cell phone. As far as her virginity, surprisingly there are still those out there who keep their legs crossed up to 22 years of age, albeit once she loses her virginity to him, she keeps them open far too often. Also, having been just introduced to sex, I find it unbelievable she can experience her first orgasm so quickly. These are the little irritants I’m willing to overlook. I’m supposing EL James had her own reason for building Ana in that light. Let’s face it, once she meets Grey all common sense disappears and she’s hooked on a drug.

Okay, Grey. Let’s get to the central swoon point of the book. They guy is rich (billionaire should have probably been an millionaire to make it believable), far too young to have such a grand empire, and totally screwed up. Now, I’ll come to the nitty-gritty of it all. As a woman who was sexually abused at five years old, I understand Christian Grey completely. One line that hit home really hard happened to be, “This is who I am.” People, you have no idea how that affected me. If you’ve never had your innocence stripped from you as a child or teen, you’ll never understand the darkness and demons of Christian Grey.

I didn’t relate so much to this book fantasizing over a character who is handsome, takes care of me, and is a bad-boy with a dark and kinky side. I read it as a book understanding the effects of sexual abuse on a child and how it taints your thinking in every aspect of your life. Your view of yourself, your sexual preferences, the demons that are left are very real. Grey, I understand. I wondered if EL James herself had once been a victim. If not, she portrayed his inner demons to perfection; and for that, I give her kudos.

The book does have many flaws. I almost wish it wasn’t so full of explicit sex and so much of it. I think EL James could have crafted a wonderful R rated novel, instead of NR17, and the story would have been fine. The day he takes her to meet his parents was frankly over the top in the number of times he took her for pain, punishment, and pleasure. He’s a superman ripping foiled packages of condoms, who can keep an erection and achieve performance for hours. Men probably admire his stamina. Ana is the nymphomaniac herself having just been introduced to sex and without a shade of a morality. Of course, she’s bewitched by Grey; it is a bit over the top. But that’s what Erotica is all about…a lot of unrealistic sex. The kinky side of it was an eye opener to me. However, once again I understand Grey’s bondage tendencies. I’ll leave it at that, though, I’m not involved in that type lifestyle.

So what did I like about the book? (1) The characters that suck you into their lives; (2) the dialogue and bantering between Grey and Ana; (3) the inner conflict of Ana trying to understand herself and him, (4)EL James’ sense of humor with Ana’s thought process; and (5) the underlying themes.

It has its merits and its faults. I think what makes it popular is the fact that it touches a lot of people in a variety of ways…whether that is good or bad. Perhaps it is fan fiction at its worse, utter trash, and not worth the read. For me, it was a wake up call, “This is who I am,” to no fault of my own.

It’s about Christian Grey working through the devastating effects of his childhood, which has molded him into the man he is. Sexual abuse of any kind deeply affects the human soul from your decisions, to your likes and dislikes, to your fears, self-esteem, to your sexual tendencies (most of which are distorted and rightfully so) – the list is endless. Sometimes healing comes; sometimes it doesn’t. Sometimes it’s at the hands of a therapist; sometimes at the hands of someone who loves you unconditionally. And, sadly, sometimes it never arrives at all. For those reasons, I cannot harshly judge the content of this book overall. However, the reality of whether these two individuals could really have a healthy long-term relationship is questionable in real life. Below is a link to an interesting article about the psychology of it all.

http://www.goodtherapy.org/blog/bdsm-…

Feel Free to Share Conflicting Hearts

Like any other author, marketing and publicity can be a full-time job, as much as writing a book and editing!  With over a million releases every year, it’s becoming harder and harder to get noticed.  In 2012, I was lucky enough to have two titles at the same time on the Historical Romance best seller list on Amazon. It was a great feeling, but often comes with short-term glory.

I’ve made a few banners for Conflicting Hearts.  If the book has touched you in any way, I’d love your help getting the word out.  Feel free to grab any of the three banners (just right click and save to your computer) and display them on Facebook, your blogs, or websites.  You can link the banners to:  www.amazon.com/Conflicting-Hearts-ebook/dp/B00A5V6HV0

In addition, writing reviews, giving likes, and sharing go a long way with algorithms on Amazon and elsewhere for your book to be recommended to readers.

In any event, thank you for your continued support, along with many positive emails and comments regarding my confessional story set into a fictional world.  I sincerely hoped it blessed you.

J.D. Burrows