BEA'S BOOK NOOK "I can't imagine a man really enjoying a book and reading it only once." C. S. Lewis “If one cannot enjoy reading a book over and over again, there is no use in reading it at all.” ― Oscar Wilde

Wednesday, July 20, 2016

EXCERPT & GIVEAWAY! invisible-i-am by Gregg Davis Written By Harriet Showman

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.

Find the author online:


my vomit-soaked skirt stuck to my butt as i walked, shivering, to my house. Mom’s ’86 Volvo was not in the driveway.


(no maternal freak-outs)  

Wincing with every step, i climbed to the front porch of our rambling, grayframe Victorian house and unlocked the door. my body screamed from the abuse, especially that last vicious kick.

A’ja followed me, sensing my distress, as i slipped upstairs to my bathroom and began to peel off my clothes. Pulling my sweater over my head hurt, but seeing the bruises on my thighs made me wince more. Staring at my puke-covered self in the mirror over the bathroom sink, i issued my verdict:

i am a survivor.

No. Wait.

What did i see in my eyes?


There was still some fight in me and a whole lot of self-confidence. my family’s motto came to mind: Fortitudo Fortis Defendit. Courage Protects the Bold Ones. The saying appeared on the Davis family crest, which featured two roaring lions with crowns, standing on hind legs with forepaws ready for battle, each facing a brilliant, gold aura-encompassed heart. This crest, painted on a shield, was positioned over the fi replace in our formal dining room.

(my family’s standard for daily consumption)

Being a victim was not in my DNA. Could i turn this situation into a victory for myself? i never wanted those troglodytes for friends. Why not have them as enemies? At least everyone would be out in the open. None of that fake, Southern, “I’ll pray for you” crap as they stick the knife between the fourth and fi fth rib.

i would have wept for my loss of innocence but there was no time. A more important task awaited me. i had to fool the parents into thinking nothing was wrong. i was not about to tell them the whole story. Not a chance. If i mentioned the extent of the bullying, Dad would storm the corridors of my life seeking vengeance and i couldn’t take any more embarrassment. i would handle my life my way.

God, i thought, this hair. How was i ever going to unsnarl it? Couldn’t. In an impetuous decision, i decided to mark this day with a visible reminder of my ability to endure. Where were the scissors?  Oh yeah, i left them on the bookcase after i cut Jack’s face out of my yearbooks.


Grabbing them, i returned to the bathroom. This would not be a pretty haircut. It would look as raw as i felt. i began hacking – leaving an inch here, two inches there and a peculiar fringe going every which way across my forehead. i wanted to do something that could not be easily fi xed. i liked it. Sort of resembled a bizarre Raggedy Ann doll.

Perhaps a shower. Hot water cured everything, i hypothesized. As the healing stream poured down my body, i closed my eyes and turned my face upward, seeking a moment of grace.


i lifted my arms to the ceiling and let loose a battle cry.

The new Gregg Davis.



No one screwed with me.


An experimental, literary YA multimedia narrative centered on the experiences of 16-year-old Gregg Davis, who undergoes brutal bullying and sexual violence by her peers. 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. A picture book.

Read Chapter One for free at

Publisher: Harriet Showman
Release Date: August 18, 2015
Formats: paperback, ebook
Buying Links: Amazon* | Book Depository*  - * associate links; the blog receives a small commission from purchases made through these links.

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