BooksChatter: ☀☄ invisible-i-am by gregg davis [1]

Monday, 18 July 2016

☀☄ invisible-i-am by gregg davis [1] - Harriet Showman

Thank you for joining us on the opening day of the Virtual Book Tour for invisible-i-am, a Contemporary Young Adult novella by Harriet Showman (18 August 2015, Harriet Showman, 79 pages).

Don't miss our interview with author Harriet Showman.

PREVIEW: Check out the book's synopsis, trailer, a reading of the second chapter, and excerpt below. Read the first chapter with Amazon Look Inside.

Author Harriet Showman will be awarding a signed art print of an image from the book to a randomly drawn winner via Rafflecopter during the tour. Please do take part: comment on our post and follow the tour where you will be able to read other excerpts (☀), interviews (ℚ), reviews (✍) and guest blog posts (✉).

Synopsis | Trailer & Chapter 2 | Teaser | Author Q&A | About the Author | Giveaway & Tour Stops

Synopsis

Gregg Davis—a witty, cynical and brightly intelligent sixteen-year-old girl—seems to have it all: a wealthy, close-knit family, an athletic boyfriend she’s known since forever, good grades and a drama-free social life. But then everything changes.

Gregg is plummeted into darkness, suffering relentless bullying, sexual violence and humiliation both online and in real life. Ultimately, she must make a choice – head down the dark path of revenge and bitterness, swallowed up by her own deep wounds, or rise above it and use her experience to make the world a better, safer place.

Spanning the mediums of the printed page, online social media and the screen, this story offers a wrenching, empathetic look at the experience of bullying through a victim’s eyes, and then extends this theme of oppression, humiliation and violence to address issues of historical and systemic racism in the U.S. today.

Visit invisible-i-am.com to view Gregg's Journal

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Teaser: Excerpt

“Caroline Lee Davis.” my mother’s second command penetrated my sister’s brain and she left me to the inevitable interrogation. Her thoughtful eyes met mine as she passed. Good. my sister and i understood each other.

(at least this time)

As she went upstairs, i turned to face my parents.

Mom still wore her yoga clothes from teaching classes earlier in the day. The thigh-length, mossy green, cashmere sweater and dark teal leggings complemented her brown hair and hazel eyes. She was barefoot yet she had draped a silk paisley shawl across her shoulders. Typical.

my father was fashion hopeless. Think tan khakis, a button down, light blue. Yet i never doubted their absolute love.

As if reading my thoughts, Dad put his arm around me and pulled me closer to him in support. His touch made me stiffen at ﬁ rst but i reminded myself to breathe. my father was not going to abuse me and if i was going to pull off this charade, i needed to act like nothing was wrong.

“Spill,” Mom ordered, stepping into her role as disciplinarian. To her, living a well-regulated life was an act of self-friendship. She believed consistency provided a foundation for creativity. Dad was more into chaos, despite the fact that he viewed the scientiﬁc method as his religion. Both believed in balance. Or, as Mom taught, “hugging-the-midline of life.” Dad used English and called it moderation in all things.

(my hair-cutting exercise hardly fell within their parameters)

“Well,” my mind sifted through strategies and chose the ﬁrst line of defense. “You know how Jack and i broke up a couple of weeks ago?” How could they forget? i used every invective i could access in my vocabulary and invented new ones. It took them days to calm down my rage.

“Yes,” Mom answered. Succinct, as ever, my mother. She poured me a cup of Temple of Heaven Gunpowder Tea from Zhejiang Province, China, out of a delicate Qing Dynasty china pot.

Silence.

Mom knew the best way to break me.

(hated when she did it)

“i wanted to make a statement?” i offered, hoping this would be enough. The skeptical looks on their faces said maybe not.

Dad changed his usual approach and challenged me, “Kind of extreme, don’t you think? What are you not saying?”

His eyes sought the truth i would never give him.

Fate intervened when a convoy of guys in pick-up trucks roared by our house. They blasted their horns and shouted obscenities about me. Their noise intruded into our sanctuary.

Shit.

Mom and Dad raced over to the window, pulled back the heavy, indigo velvet drapery and stared as the thugs made another pass. The full moon rising added drama to the scene.

(lovely)

(quintessential loveliness)

my parents turned and looked at me. And then they did something so them. They drew me off the sofa and placed me in the middle of their gentle hug. My father whispered, “Gregg sandwich.” A’ja rubbed against our legs, purring.

The sweetness of their gesture contrasted with the horribleness of the day and overwhelmed me. i began to cry heart-wrenching, broken-animal sort of sobs. Mom stroked my hair. Dad sang the lullaby, “Hush, little baby, don’t you cry.” Their tenderness made me blubber even more. i don’t know how long we stood there.

invisible-i-am
Available NOW!

About the Author

Harriet Showman (born 9 May 1954) is an author and multimedia artist born in South Carolina and raised in Pennsylvania. She returned to South Carolina for university and lives there today. She holds undergraduate and graduate degrees in colonial South Carolina history and has spent much of her life helping children and young adults succeed amidst challenging circumstances, including poverty and abuse.

With a strong core of allies, Showman helped to establish a statewide Guardian ad Litem program to provide legal support for abused children; a Cities in Schools organization to serve underprivileged students; and a vehicle for the accumulation of monies to be distributed in grants through the Children’s Trust Fund.

As a development officer for South Carolina’s flagship university, Showman attracted resources from major, national foundations to target South Carolina’s most urgent needs. She remains interested in the plight of children, teens and adults who suffer abuse, oppression and the paralyzing pain of invisibility.

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