Posts tagged garvey hemisphere
Read the First Draft of "The Loss"


This is literally a first draft (at the time of posting, only one other person had read it), so all words, characters and themes are subject to change as I go through the editing process. I hope you enjoy and feel free to leave feedback.

Click here to download a PDF or scroll to read the text below.

"The Loss"

by Garvey Hemisphere

Book Cover - The Loss.png

The man jumped out of his car with a pistol in his hand and anger in his eye. Camille froze at the sight of the gun and gasped for air. The man looked to be over three hundred pounds and growing the closer he got to her car.

“Hey, you old bitch!” the man yelled, right outside her window and gripping the pistol harder than ever. “You got a problem or something?!”

Camille, still frozen at the sight of the gun and the size of the man could only stammer out her response. “N-n-n-noooo. I d-d-don’t have a problem, sir. I-I-I-I’m just trying to get to the h-h-hospital. My granddaughter is about to be released from the maternity ward. And if I’m not there… they’re going to ship her to Public Housing. And her parents are out of state.”

Still gripping his pistol but softening his look, the man answered. “Public Housing? She had a Program baby?”

“Y-y-yes sir. And I’m sorry for honking my horn at you. I’m just in a hurry and I can’t let her get caught up in Public Housing. I just overslept. I’ve been at the hospital the last three nights and I haven’t been able to—”

The man raised his hand and put his pistol away. “I’m sorry for losing my temper, ma’am. I really am. I just lost my nephew to The Program. I guess I’m on edge myself. I really do apologize. Let me get out of your way. Seriously. I apologize. And I’m sorry for your loss.”

“It’s okay, sir. I understand,” Camille said, finally breathing easily for the first time in minutes. “I’m sorry for your loss as well.”

The man returned to his car and Camille let her foot off the brake. The man’s Ford F-150 turned left and Camille turned right to head towards the hospital.

She pulled into the parking lot and headed towards the attendant’s desk, just as her granddaughter was rounding the corner.

“Hey Mommy, it’s me,” she said into the phone. “I’m about to get discharged, but I still haven’t heard from you. I hope you’re okay. Call me when you get this, okay?”

        “No answer?” Camille asked, after signing her out at the attendant’s desk.

        “No, I guess she’s still working on getting Kamaye back.”

        “I guess so. Do you want to go get some food or something? You’ve gotta be hungry. Look at you - you’re all skin and bones! Wallace ain’t feeding you?”

        “You think everybody is skin and bones,” she said with a laugh. “I’m fine, Grandma. I promise.”

        “Hmph, I guess I could use some breakfast myself now that I think about it. Crayola’s?”

        “That’ll work, I guess. I’m not that hungry though.”

        “You will be once you get inside.”

        They made the short drive from the hospital to Crayola’s Diner. Once inside, Camille ordered a short stack, grits and sausage, while her granddaughter ordered orange juice and toast.

        “That’s all you want?” Camille asked.

        “I’ll be fine. My stomach still feels weird.”

        “Probably a side effect of from all those medications they pump you with. I’m so glad I wasn’t still pushing out babies when The Program started.”

        “How old were you, Grandma?”

        “I was over forty. Way too old to still be having children. It was right around the time your Mama had you, I believe.”

        “Do you think it actually works?”

        “I’m sure it does. Just not for the people trapped in it.”

        “I wish there was another way. What was it like was before?”

        “Things were a little more civil back then, but not by much. To be honest, the first few years were great. It did just what they said it would – reduced teenage pregnancy, saved money on civil programs. The mayor used that money to build education halls and schools, programs for the arts. It seemed harmless enough,” Camille took a sip of Coke and cleared her throat before she continued. “But once they saw how much money there was in it? Whew. It was over just that fast. But that’s what’s it’s always about… money. They never talk about the people that have been lost. All those poor babies just… just gone.”

        “My friend Randy had to give up his son too. He hated it. He still talks about him every day… it’s like he’s still here.”

        Camille recalled the moment from earlier in the morning with the man and the pistol. Although she was terrified at the time, she immediately understood his anger once he revealed what had happened to his nephew. The trauma of The Program was already beginning to set in after less than two decades.

        “His son will always be here as long as he believes it,” Camille said with a smile. “And, so will Kamaye.”

        “What if Mommy can’t get to her in time?”

        Camille kissed her granddaughter’s forehead and gave her a hug. “We’re not going to worry about that until we hear from your mother. In the meantime, let’s talk about something much, much more important. Like where is that Samuel?”


        “No. Where is he? Because if it weren’t for him, you wouldn’t even be going through this mess in the first place.”

        “It’s not his fault.”

        “How ain’t it?”

        “He didn’t create The Program.”

        “But he sure benefitted from it, didn’t he? They all do. Men don’t want to raise the babies they make anymore, so now, they just ship them off to Bakersfield or Chicago or Pittsburgh – just wherever The Program decides they’re needed. That ain’t right!” Camille said, banging her fist against the table. “Single mothers raised babies alone for decades! And of course, it was hard, but we did it. We don’t need people telling us we have to send our babies off to become slaves in order for us have a better life. Or them, for that matter. Men didn’t make it easier on us – they made it easier on themselves!”

        “Oh my God, Grandma,” her granddaughter said with a laugh and a wave of the hand. “You’re so dramatic. They just do like landscaping and trash collection and stuff. They’re not slaves.”

        “Oh please. This country has survived off slave labor the entire time we’ve been here. They don’t make wages, they don’t have rights and they don’t get to vote. They just do what they’re told from the day they’re born until the day they die. Now what do you call that?”

        She grew quiet as she thought about the weight of it all for the first time and began to weep. “That’s what’s going to happen to Kamaye?”

        Realizing her mistake, Camille embraced her granddaughter again. “I’m sorry baby. I’m just over here running my mouth. I’m sure Kamryn is going to get her back here, safe and sound.”

        She looked out the window at the mountains of traffic racing by on the expressway. “I hope you’re right.”

        The waitress brought their food and set it down in front of them with a smile. Camille tore into the piping hot food, while her granddaughter casually sipped at her juice, still lost in thought. Once she was finished, Camille placed her fork on the plate, still attempting to calm her granddaughter’s fears. “Are you going to teach Kamaye the song?”

        She smiled weakly. “Yeah, when she’s old enough, I guess I should. It always helped me feel better.”

        “Your great-granddaddy taught me that song. And his daddy taught him. And his mother taught him.”

        “Really? Who sang the song first?” she asked.

        Camille thought about it for a second and then gave a soft laugh. “You know, that’s a good question.” Her granddaughter gave another weak smile and continued to sip her juice. “I’m going to run to the bathroom and then we can head out, yeah?”

        “Okay Grandma.”

        Camille rose and walked to the bathroom, while her granddaughter continued to watch the traffic. Suddenly, her phone buzzed loudly, but from a number she didn’t recognize.

        “Mommy? Mommy? Is that you?”

        The voice sounded muffled on the other end. “Baby! Baby? Can you hear me? I have Kamaye! We’re on our way to come see you right now. Where are you?”

        “Me and Grandma are at Crayola’s, having breakfast. Well, she did. I just had orange juice.”

        “The Crayola’s on Grand and Fifth? We’ll be there in ten minutes. We’re on the way, baby!” and the called ended with a click.

        She hung up the phone, not wanting to scream too loud in excitement. As soon as Camille sat down, she noticed her granddaughter’s change in demeanor.

        “Mommy, just called,” she said with a smile. “She has Kamaye. She’s going to be here in ten minutes.”

        “Ten minutes? Where is she?” Camille asked with an upraised eyebrow.

        “I don’t know, she didn’t say. She just asked where I was and that she was bringing her.”

        Camille grew suspicious. “Your mother has been in North Carolina for three days and didn’t think to call you the first moment she got a chance? She waited until she was ten minutes away?”

        Sensing Camille’s suspicion, her granddaughter began to second-guess the voice from the phone. “It really sounded like her. She even said the name ‘Kamaye.’ Who else would have known the name?”

        “Call the number back,” Camille said. The girl did as she was told, but there was no answer. “We need to go,” she said, grabbing her coat and purse. “We need to go right now!”

        Camille jumped up from her seat and started making her way towards the door, scanning each face inside the restaurant for the first time, trying to see if anyone reacted suddenly to her movements. As she walked towards the front door, a young woman from behind the counter tried to get her attention.

        “Ma’am?” she called out, with an artificially adhered customer service smile.

        Camille and her granddaughter continued to walk faster.

        “Ma’am!” the young woman shouted again, her smile now vanished.

        Camille and her granddaughter began to pick up the pace and had almost made it to the front door when a man came from the back of the kitchen and stood in their way, blocking the door.

        “We can’t let you leave,” he said with a stern look, crossing his arms. Camille looked at her granddaughter and didn’t know what to do. He was twice their size put together and there was no way they’d be able to get past him. Without thinking twice, Camille took a small step back, cleared her throat and kicked the man in the groin before grabbing her granddaughter’s hand to run past him as he slumped to the ground in a heap.

        They ran to the car and got inside before the young woman came bursting through the door. Camille backed the Ford Explorer out of the spot and sped out of the parking lot.

        “YOU DIDN’T PAY YOUR BILL-LLLL!” they heard the woman yell before pulling towards the expressway.

        “Grandma, you forgot to pay?”

        “I guess I got so caught up in the moment,” Camille said with a laugh. “No time to go back now.” Camille drove up an exit before turning off the expressway and pulled into an IKEA parking lot across the street. It was high enough and far away for her to see Crayola’s clearly without being identified. They sat beneath a large tree and Camille kept her eyes trained on the parking lot. After a few minutes passed, a black van pulled in. After a few moments, the front doors opened and a woman who appeared to be Kamryn, jumped out the front seat. She opened the back door and reached inside. For a few moments, it appeared that she was struggling with something, but finally, she was able to free it – she reappeared, holding a newborn.

        “It was her, Grandma. We have to go back. We have to go back right now! She has Kamaye!”

        Seeing all they needed to see, Camille and her granddaughter hopped back in the car and returned to the parking lot. Knowing they couldn’t go inside after skipping on the bill, they pulled beside the black van and called the number from earlier again, hoping to tell Kamryn they were out front, but there was still no answer. Before Camille could stop her, her granddaughter hopped out of the truck and made her way to the door.

        “Mommy?! Where are you?” she asked once inside. She didn’t see her mother or anyone who resembled her. She searched the diner for a baby and didn’t see Kamaye either. The only people she recognized were the waitress and the man her grandmother kicked in the groin.

        “Hey you!” the waitress said. “You and that old bag owe $14.48. Plus tip!”

        She turned to run and almost knocked over her mother as a result. “Mommy!” she said, embracing Kamryn. “You found Kamaye!”

        “This’ll cover it,” Kamryn said, tossing a twenty-dollar bill on the counter. Camille walked into the small diner, just in time to see Kamryn place her great-granddaughter into her granddaughter’s arms. “And the next time you call my mother an old bag, I’ll make sure you regret it, you little pancake fuck!”

        “I’m sorry about earlier,” Camille said to the waitress sheepishly. “And about my daughter. She can be a little tough sometimes.” She turned to Kamryn, giving her a tight hug. Halfway expecting bad news, she asked, “Everything go okay?”

        “No worse than last time, I guess,” Kamryn said with a weak smile.


        “Yes, but not for anything in here,” Kamryn said with a chuckle. “This is old people’s food. Plus, I don’t care for the shitty service I’ve received.”

        “What would you prefer?” Camille asked.

        “How about King’s on First?” her granddaughter suggested.

        “Now that works for me,” Kamryn said with a smile.

        They walked out of the entrance door and made their way to the vehicles, still elated that everything had worked out in the end. Just as they were about to step inside, a black Lincoln Navigator pulled up and three white men in navy suits hopped out and walked up to Kamryn.

        “Is your name Kamryn Slaughter-Wayne formerly known as Kamryn Abigail Wayne, also formerly known as DaVita Kamaye Sinclair?” one of them asked.

        “Excuse me?” she asked with fire in her eyes.

        One of the men returned to the black Navigator and opened the back door. A thin, frail woman with grey locs came around the side.

        Kamryn continued to grow angry at the mentions of her former full names, while Camille stood there as if she’d just seen a ghost. “J-Janet?” she asked, visibly shaken. “Wh-what are you doing here?”

        Janet walked over to his sister and kissed her on the cheek. “It’s time, Camille,” she said simply.

“Time for what?” Kamryn asked.

Janet grabbed Camille’s hands and held them tightly. “Why do you look so shaken, Camille? We knew this day was an inevitability.”

        “You can’t do this now, Janet! You just can’t!” she pleaded. “I’ll go instead. Just take me. Please!”

        “We both know that isn’t how this works. It has to be her,” Janet answered with a sick smile, pointing at Kamryn. “And… her,” she continued, pointing at Kamaye.

        “No!” Camille yelled. “You can’t take her! We just got her back.”

        “Grandma, what’s going on?” her granddaughter asked, growing terrified. Camille, still too shaken to answer, said nothing.

        “Say something, Ma!” Kamryn demanded. “What is going on?”

        “I’ll tell you all about it once we get there, my love,” Janet said with another sick smile, cupping Kamryn’s face in her hands. “Your mother made a deal with me years ago, thinking she’d never have to pay the penance. And now that I’ve come to collect, she doesn’t want to hold up her end of the bargain. But that will be her gravest mistake, isn’t that right, my lovely Camille? And now you, my gorgeous, gorgeous niece… I need to come with us.”

        “But why are you taking the baby?” Kamryn asked. “She doesn’t have anything to do with this!”

        Janet walked over to Camille and stood with her eye-to-eye. “Because… I can,” she said simply, before turning on her heel and returning to the Navigator. The men grabbed Kamaye and placed her in Janet’s arms as Camille and her granddaughter begged, cried, and tried everything they could to return the newborn to safety, but they were no match for the heavily-armed security detail. Kamryn, still unsure of what was going on, was forced into the car by security as they returned to their seats.

        Before the vehicle pulled off, Janet met eyes with her sister a final time. “If you ever want to get them back, you know what you have to do, Camille.” She gave a final sick smile and the vehicle sped off down the expressway.

        Camille’s granddaughter stared at her, waiting for an explanation to what had just happened, but Camille could offer none. She walked back to the car silently and took a seat behind the wheel. Her granddaughter slumped into the seat next to her, a ball of emotions.

        Camille turned the car over and the engine roared to life. She let down her window and cleared her throat before lighting a cigarette.

        “It’s time for you to learn everything about The Program,” Camille said solemnly.

        “What does Aunt Janet have to do with The Program? I’ve never even seen her before.”

        “Unfortunately, your aunt has everything to do with it.”

        “What are they going to do with Mommy? Where are they taking Kamaye?”

        Camille looked at her granddaughter with concern and then blew smoke out her window. “Put your seatbelt on. We have a long drive.”

        “What? Where are we going?”

        “Home,” Camille said simply before heading down the expressway.

Read the First Draft of "The Song"


This is literally a first draft (at the time of posting, only one other person had read it), so all words, characters and themes are subject to change as I go through the editing process. I hope you enjoy and feel free to leave feedback.

Click here to download a PDF or scroll to read the text below. Cover images were created by Juanita Mulder and edited by me.

"The Song"

by Garvey Hemisphere

Book Cover - The Song.png

Blood covered the chef’s knife as Camille staggered back against the kitchen counter. The knife fell from her hands as crimson drops began to dot the floor. She walked over to the sink and let out a howl as the cold water rained down against her wounds.

            “Son of a bitch!” she let out. “I’m so tired of these dull ass knives. I spend more time cleaning up the cuts on my fingers than anything else.”

            She kicked the knife with her house shoe in a rage and it went flying across the linoleum before stopping with a clang underneath the fridge. She returned to the counter to see the block of hardened cheese covered in blood on the right side. In another rage, she grabbed the whole hunk of cheese, the bread and meat she had pulled out for a sandwich, and hurled it all into the waste bin. She reached underneath the cabinet, attempting to calm her nerves. She reached in her shirt pocket and to retrieve a cigarette and lit it.

As the smoke filled her lungs, her shoulders began to soften and the muscles in her neck relaxed. She reached underneath the cabinet again to retrieve the peroxide and a small bag of cotton balls to tend to her finger. After fixing her wound and cleaning up the kitchen, she walked over to the telephone and pulled a small white card from her back pocket. She dialed the number on the card and listened to the line till a few times, but there was no answer. After a moment, she heard a loud song that she couldn’t decipher followed by a muffled voice in the background that she assumed was her daughter. After six calls and six voicemails, she still hadn’t been able to make it out exactly.

“Kamryn! This is the last time I’m going to call you. I know you think you’re grown because you’re in college now, but it’s almost 12:30 and my house locks up for the night in exactly thirty minutes. If your hind parts aren’t inside my house, you had better have somewhere else to stay tonight. Don’t try me.”

            She slammed the phone down on the receiver and plopped down on the couch. There was fire in her voice, but Camille was more concerned than anything. She took another pull on her cigarette before stamping it out against the glass ashtray beside her root beer and nacho chips on the wooden coffee table. She checked her watch again, before walking back to the phone to make sure she heard a dial tone. She convinced herself that Kamryn had been trying to reach her, but she’d slammed the phone so hard, she’d inadvertently disturbed the dial tone. She reached for the receiver when her father yelled out from upstairs.


            “Oh Lord. What is he doing up?” she said to herself. “I just knew I was going to bed in thirty minutes.” She stood up and walked over to the stairwell to hit the light. “Yes Daddy?”

            “Come here!” he yelled gruffly.

            “Tell me what you need!”

            “Come on up here and I’ll tell ya what I need!”

            “Daddy, I’m waiting up for Kamryn. Can it wait?”

            “No, it cannot wait! If it could wait, don’t you think I woulda waited?”

            Camille felt herself growing frustrated again, but held her tongue. “Daddy, can you please just tell me what it is?”

            There was no answer, which drew a deep sigh from Camille because it meant he wasn’t going to answer any further until she came upstairs. She walked back over to the sitting area to turn off the television and all the lights downstairs before trudging up the stairs. She made her way down the hallway to the room across the hall from hers and made her way inside. She stomped into the room harder than necessary to let him know of her agitation.

            “Hey, hey now! Don’t you come stompin’ ‘round here like you ain’t got no sense.”

            “Daddy, I asked you three times what you needed and you didn’t say anything.”

            “Well, maybe I didn’t want to yell it.”

            “That didn’t stop you from yelling everything else.”

            “Well, maybe I didn’t want The Girl to know.”

            “Daddy, I told Kamryn wasn’t here yet.”

            “The Girl ain’t here? Where she at?”

            “I wish I knew, so I could go on to sleep and stop worrying.”

            Her father cleared his throat and craned his neck against his pillow. He started a small coughing fit and attempted to clear his throat again. He coughed a final time before speaking again. “The Girl didn’t tell you where she was going?”

            “Daddy! Can you stop asking me questions and tell me what you need?”

            “I need to be changed. And rolled over. My hip starting to feel sore on this side.”

            “What are you even doing up? It’s almost one o’clock.”

            “What I care about what time it is? Where I got to be in the morning?”

            “Oh my God, you know I didn’t mean it like that.”

            “I’m just teasing you, Millie. When is The Girl going to be here?”

            “She has twelve minutes to walk through that door or she’s going to be locked out.”

            “Hmph. You might as well lock her out now.”

            “I told her one o’clock.”

            “Well, she should have picked up that little cellular thing she got. I know you done called her a million times by now. What they call it? A phone mobile?”

            “A mobile phone, Daddy. And I agree. But unlike her, I’m going to be a woman of my word. I said one o’clock, so I’m giving her that and not one minute more.”

            “Hmph. You better than me.”

            “Ain’t that the truth?” Camille said with a laugh. Her father rolled his eyes and passed gas to show his displeasure. “Ugh, you just have to make this worse than it needs to be, don’t you? Let me go get my gloves and I’ll come change you.”

            She walked to the hallway closet to gather medical gloves, wipes and plastic bags. She turned to head back to her father’s room when she heard a key turn in the door’s lock and saw Kamryn’s shadowy figure attempting to sneak in through the darkness. Camille watched her for a few more seconds as she closed the door carefully, being sure not to make too much noise.

Once Kamryn pivoted and made her way towards the steps sure that she had made it in successfully, Camille snapped on the lights. “KAMRYN ABIGAIL WAYNE! I called you twelve—”

            “I know, I know, I know. My phone died and I couldn’t find my charger.”

            “I don’t know what you’re even talking about. I told you when we were at the store, if you didn’t answer that phone when I called, I wasn’t going to buy it.”

            “I just told you—”

            “I don’t care what you just said! You’re lucky I’m up dealing with your grandfather or you’d be locked out.”

            Kamryn let out a sigh before checking the time on her watch. “It’s only 12:58.”

            “I don’t care what time it is! The next time you leave this house and don’t answer that phone, I’m taking it back to the store and it’s going to be me and you. Now, let’s go!”

            “Go where?” Kamryn asked with an incredulous look.

            Camille pointed towards the top floor. “Upstairs. We’re not done talking!”

            “Ma, I don’t want to watch you clean him up. Can’t we just talk to tomorrow? I don’t even know what I—”

            “I don’t want you to watch her clean me up either!” he yelled from upstairs.

            “Well that’s good to hear, because you’re not watching!” Camille said, tossing her a pair of gloves. “You’re helping!”

            “What?” Kamryn asked, looking like she wanted to run back out of the house.
            “Next time, pick up that phone. Come on.”


            Camille glared at her and Kamryn that if she kept talking, things would only get worse, so she followed behind silently up to her grandfather’s room. The room smelled rancid and musky, forcing her to gag at the first whiff.

            “Oh my God, Ma! You can’t be serious.”

            “Kamryn, I’m not going to say it again!”

            “But, the smell…”

            He let out a laugh and began to choke on the dryness in his throat, but still continued to force laughs at the sight of his granddaughter’s nose turned up in disgust. “Ain’t my fault your mama made them greens so rich!”

            “Daddy please,” Camille scowled. “We’re going to clean you up and turn you over, so you can go back to sleep. So I can go to sleep.”

            “Tell The Girl I’m sorry about the smell.”

            “She can hear you, Daddy.”

            “Tell The Girl to sing me the song.”

            “She’ll sing it once we get you cleaned up.”

            Kamryn stood frozen in place, still unsure of exactly what to do.

            Sensing her anxiety, Camille moved to the other side and lifted her father’s hip off the bed. “Come on over here. Just hold his back while I clean him up.”

            Kamryn took the smallest steps she could towards the bed and placed her hands on her grandfather’s hip to steady him while her mother removed the diaper and wiped him clean with baby wipes and a cloth. She slid on a new diaper, and together, they put him in fresh pajamas and disposed of the soiled items.

            “Did you The Girl I was sorry about the smell?”

            “It’s okay, Paw Paw,” Kamryn said with a smile. “I don’t mind it anymore.”

            Camille returned her daughter’s smile, before turning her attention to her father. “You need anything else, Daddy?”

            “Nah, I’m good now. Just had to get off that hip. I appreciate y’all helping me out, but y’all can make yourselves scarce now. Gon’ try and knock back out for a few hours. What’s for breakfast tomorrow, by the way?”

            “Grits, fatback, eggs and sausage,” Camille answered sweetly. “Maybe some wheat toast if you want some.”

            “Can you make biscuits instead?” he asked.

            “Biscuits? I don’t know, Daddy. That’s a lot of work for a Sunday and we got church tomorrow.”

            “I’ll help,” Kamryn chimed in.

            “You will not. You’ll sleep in until the very last minute like you do every other Sunday.”

            “I’ll get up. I promise. If Granddaddy really wants them.”

            “Then, it’s settled,” he said with a large smile. “The Girl will help you make the biscuits. I want strawberry preserves this time though. Not that jelly like you had last time. That processed stuff ain’t good. You need to go on and let Audrey from down the streets make you some of that good peach jam. It’s homemade!”

            She gave a sigh as they headed towards the door. “Goodnight Daddy.”

            “Oh no, I forgot to sing him the song,” Kamryn whispered as they stepped across the doorframe.

            She glanced over at her father who had already halfway fallen asleep to dream about Sunday’s fluffy biscuits that awaited him.

            “Sing it tomorrow before church,” Camille answered. “I don’t want to get him even more riled up.”

            The ladies headed down the hallway and into Camille’s room.

            “Now that that’s done, I want to talk about tonight.”

            “Do you always do that?” Kamryn interrupted.

            “Do what?”

            “Clean him up like that? And get him dressed?”

            “Don’t try to change the subject, I want to know—!”

            “I’m not trying to change the subject,” Kamryn said. “Well I am, but I really do want to know.”

Camille took a seat on her bed. “Well, who do you think does it?”

            “I thought that’s what the nurse was for?”

            “Kamryn, the nurse leaves at two o’clock every day. Who do you think takes care of your grandfather after that?”

            “I guess… I never thought about it.”

            “No shit,” Camille said with a chuckle.

            “I’m sorry I haven’t helped you more.”

            “Oh, stop it. I’ve never needed your help. I’ve been taking care of people all my life. I enjoy doing it. I just wanted you to see what it’s like to think about someone besides yourself for once.”

            “What do you mean you’ve been taking care of people all your life?”

            “When I was a girl, I took care of your Aunt Carol more than anyone else. We couldn’t afford a nurse. Your grandma was… well, you know. And your grandfather was always working. So, I looked after her, made sure she had food, made sure she was cleaned up, had her hair combed. The same things I did for you when you were a girl.”

            “And now you’re taking care of Granddaddy. Mama, that’s not right.”

            “Girl, what are you talking about?”

            Kamryn took a seat next to her mother on the bed. “When are you going to live your own life? You spend your time taking care of everyone except yourself.”

            “That’s what you do for family, Kamryn. That’s what family is supposed to do.”

            She scoffed. “Well, I’m not doing that. It’s just not fair. You spend your whole life taking care of people and no one is there at the end of the night to take care of you. That’s just not right.”

            Camille started chuckling to herself and placed her wig on the nightstand. “You sound just like Janet.”

“Aunt Janet?”

“She hated taking care of Carol. Even though she barely did it. As soon as she turned eighteen, she took off to college and then off to work and off to her own life in Maryland. I can’t even remember the last time we talked on the phone, much less seen one another. It’s like she just up and disappeared.”

“She just went to live her own life, Ma. Something you should be doing. What’s so wrong with that? Aren’t you supposed to leave your family behind when you get married?”

“You ain’t never supposed to leave family behind. You can go away for a little while to do what you got to do. Your brother went off to college and no one is judging him. But when he graduates, he’s coming back. That’s what Janet never did. She never came back. You can leave. You can leave if it’s to make a sacrifice for the greater good. But you have to come back. You have to come back to where your family is. Your aunt Janet tries to act like this family doesn’t exist because it’s not what she thinks a family should look like. But you don’t get to pick your family, you only get to pick your friends.”

“So, you give up everything and no one ever gives up anything for you? Is that all life is supposed to be about?”

Camille shook her head. “Girl, let me explain something to you. Your granddaddy took care of us from the time I was born and I wasn’t even his. When Carol was born and they told us she would never be able to walk, Mama started getting depressed and stopped being able to take care of us. She blamed herself and that just made it worse. Daddy worked all day long, came home, cleaned up, made sure we ate and took care of us. During the day, I played games and puzzles with Carol and on the weekends, we had picnics in the backyard. And sometimes, I’d stay home from school when Mom would be gone, and we would read books together. During the days, we were best friends. But at night, Daddy took care of both of us. He gave his entire back taking care of us. And now I’m here to hold his back up for him, because he can’t do it for himself. Because that’s what you do for family.”

            “So, who’s going to be here to take care of you when you can’t do for yourself anymore? You’re almost forty and I can’t remember the last time I had any fun.”

            “I can. You were seven years old and you broke your foot at your cousin’s birthday party and you couldn’t play outside for the rest of the summer.”

            “Oh God, that sucked,” Kamryn said, rolling her eyes. “Wait, that was the last time you had any fun?”

            “We played Monopoly and made homemade ice cream and had a picnic lunch in the living room. I had a great time. You didn’t enjoy it?”
            “Well at the time, I just wanted to be outside, but looking back on it, I guess it wasn’t so bad. In fact, that’s when you taught me the song for the first time.”

            Camille chuckled to herself. “I guess it was. I sang it to make you feel better.”

            “And it always did.”

            “Your grandfather is the one who taught me that song.”

            “Really? I didn’t know that,” Kamryn said with a smile. “I have to make sure to sing it tomorrow before church.”

            “Yes, you do. Now, head to bed. We’ll talk about you and that phone tomorrow since you decided to volunteer us for biscuit duty.”

            “Yes, ma’am.”

            “I love you, baby.”

            “Love you too, Ma.”

            Kamryn shut the door and walked towards her bedroom. She removed the stack of dollar bills from her pockets and slid them into the shoebox beneath her bed, that was filled to the top with dollar bills. Kamryn placed them into the shoebox carefully and then slid it back beneath her bed.

            She removed her clothes and slid into bed before releasing a long sigh.

            “It’s good to be home,” she said, before closing her eyes and falling asleep.

Read the First Draft of "The Vow"


This is literally a first draft (at the time of posting, only one other person had read it), so all words, characters and themes are subject to change as I go through the editing process. I hope you enjoy and feel free to leave feedback.

Click here to download a PDF or scroll to read the text below. Cover images were created by Juanita Mulder and edited by me.

"The Vow"

by Garvey Hemisphere

Book Cover - The Vow.png

Wallace rushed towards the bay of elevators, pushing every button available as his forehead shone with perspiration. The anticipation rose inside his stomach as the car slowly crept its way along and the lighted numbers changed from floor to floor. He pressed the talk button on his phone for the sixth time in what seemed like as many seconds, but it continued to go straight to voicemail. He gave one final look over his shoulder as the elevator’s bell dinged and the doors slid open. He took a step to the side to allow a nurse and two men in street clothes off the car before stepping onto the elevator and tapping the L button and jabbing his forefinger into the CLOSE DOOR button a dozen times before the doors slid shut.

            He attempted more another set of phone calls from his iPhone, but it was useless – there was still no answer. As the elevator reached the lobby floor, he rushed towards the hospital entrance when he saw her marching through the double doors.

            “No, Kamryn!” he yelled. “Absolutely not! You cannot be here. Not today!”

            “How dare you try to tell me where I can and cannot be?” Kamryn returned with a snarl. “I am just as entitled to be here as you are!”

            “It’s not that simple. You don’t understand anything that’s going on.”

            “I understand well enough to know that she’s up there and you don’t want me to see her. Why is that, Wallace? Scared it might ruin that little delusion she has of you? Scared she might see you’re not perfect?”

            “Jesus Christ, Kam. How many times are you going to make a fool of yourself before you realize the only person who is constantly concerned with what other people think of them is you! For once, realize this has nothing to do with me. She’s just… she’s scared and she doesn’t understand how much is about to change.”

            “I don’t care, I’m not leaving here until I see her face! Do you think I’ll stop just because we’re in a hospital? You think I won’t speak my mind just because we’re in public?”
            “Kam, I’m very aware that you’re going to speak your mind no matter where you are,” he said with a roll of the eyes. “But I don’t need you going up there and scaring that poor girl.”

            “Excuse me?”

            He sighed. He knew she wasn’t going to leave until she had seen her face to face and said what she wanted to say. Kam had always been persistent that way.

            “Fine, Kamryn...”

            “No, don’t do that,” she interrupted with a wave of the finger. “You’re the one at fault here! Don’t be weak and make it seem like you’re doing me some kind of favor by letting me speak to her.”

            “I said ‘fine,’ goddamit! What more do you want from me?!”
            “Don’t you take that tone-!”

            “Okay look… just… just look. I’m sorry, okay? I apologize.” Wallace attempted to calm himself as their volume was causing several looks from people grieving inside the emergency room as well as the various hospital workers. “It’s already been a long day and like I said she’s on edge, I’m on edge. We’re all dealing with this the best way we can. All I’m asking is that you don’t go up there and make things worse. She will explain everything once we’re upstairs. I just don’t know if it’s my place.”

            “Not your place? You’re her –”

            “I still haven’t pressed this button yet, Kam. Do you want to go up or not? Because if you keep it up…”

            She opened her mouth to speak, but reconsidered and cleared her throat before nodding. Wallace gave her a hard look and she readjusted her brown leather purse against her shoulder and straightened the front of her skirt. He gave a pained sigh, pushed the button and the elevator’s bell instantly dinged. They stepped inside and rode the car up to the tenth floor in silence.

            Once there, they stepped off and made a left heading out of the bay of elevators, towards the nurses’ station. After a few feet, they made a right, where Kamryn noticed various cousins, nieces and nephews she hadn’t seen in years. They all looked overcome with grief, but also somewhat comforted at the sight of her. All except her aunt Carol who was sobbing alone in a chair just as they made the final left and arrived at room 2223.

            “She’s still a bit in shock, Kam. Don’t try to rush her. Just let her tell you what’s going on.”

            She nodded her head and readjusted her purse once again before Wallace pushed the door open. He walked in and she followed behind cautiously, her legs suddenly feeling heavier than they had before. The beeps of various machines and the hum of a small television in the corner filled the hospital room as silent expressions of five other family members acknowledged Kamryn’s presence before returning their eyes to the floor. Fighting off the overwhelm, Kam focused her attention on the small, teenage girl laying in the hospital bed with her back turned. She looked even smaller than Kamryn remembered and the hospital gown barely clung to the tops of her shoulders.

            “Hey baby,” Kamryn said, her voice cracking under the weight of those words.

            “Mommy?” the girl asked weakly, uncertain if she was hearing things. She turned over and met eyes with Kamryn whose face flooded with tears at the sight of seeing her fifteen-year-old daughter, who sobbed uncontrollably and everyone in the room leapt to their feet on instinct. Wallace waved them off and allowed Kamryn the chance to console her.

            Unclear of what to do, Kamryn’s eyes met Wallace’s as he mouthed instructions to embrace her. Finally, the light bulb went off and she wrapped her arms around the young girl’s shoulders. For several moments, the two whimpered together and hugged as the others in the room emptied out except for Wallace, who planted himself in a chair in the corner.

            “I’m sorry I wasn’t here for you, babygirl. I’m sorry that… that I’ve been gone,” she said.

            “It’s okay. It’s…”

            “I know, baby. I know. Just tell me what happened.”

            “It all happened so fast. I saw her though, Mama. I saw her face even I told them I didn’t want to. I told them a thousand times. But as soon as I saw her, I didn’t want to let her go. They told me I had to… but I just couldn’t. It’s not fair, Mommy. I already loved her and they won’t let me see her or hold her or anything. They won’t even tell me if she’s okay. She’s already…” The girl’s thoughts trailed off and she began to sob again.

            Kamryn rubbed her shoulders and held her hand as Wallace moved his chair closer.

            “Tell me, babygirl. Tell me what’s going on.”

            “She’s already gone.”


            “She’s not mine. Not anymore. I’ll never get to see her again.”

            The room grew quiet again, when Kamryn suddenly stood up from her seat and rushed towards the door. The air seemed more viscous and it became hard for her to move and harder for her to breathe. She dropped her purse before swinging the door open and walking towards a large window at the end of the hall. She reached the window, but still struggled to catch her breath when Wallace’s hand ran across her back. Seeing the greying beard forming along his jawline and the sincerity in his eyes made her break down again as she felt the guilt rush over her. Wallace had done everything he could, but she could tell the weight of it all was beginning to engulf him.

            “I’m sorry.”

            “Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you tell me that so I’d be prepared? Why didn’t you tell me so that I could help?!”

            “Because we’re not just things you pick up and dust off whenever you’re ready to play with them. I can’t just brief you about everything like they do for you at work! I’m not your fucking assistant! Your daughter… she’s is in there hurting because she’s fifteen, some people she’s never met just took her baby away and she doesn’t know why!”

            “And what am I supposed to do about that? I can’t help that The Program took her child. That’s exactly what The Program is for!”

            “So, you’re just going to let her fester here in all this mental anguish and do nothing to about it? I thought you said you wanted to help her? Isn’t that what we should do? Isn’t that what we should have done with Abraham?”

            A white-hot flash flared inside Kamryn’s chest at the mention of Abraham’s name and she let out a deep sigh. She cleared her throat and wiped the tears from her eyes. She straightened the front of her skirt once again and walked back towards the hospital room. Her daughter laid there quietly, trying her best to ignore the evening news flickering across the small black-and-white.

            She cleared her throat and looked her daughter square in the eye. “You’re telling me you took one look at that baby and fell in love with her? Just like that?”

            “Yes, it’s hard to describe it. I made peace with everything from Day One – I knew what was going to happen. But as soon as I saw her, I didn’t want to let her go. It felt like part of my soul was being ripped from inside of me.”

            Kamryn walked to the side table and poured water from the hospital’s carafe into a paper cup of water. She took a few slow sips and checked the time on her watch, before crushing the cup between her hands and tossing it into the waste basket before returning to her daughter’s side.

            “Listen to me. We’re going to get your baby back. But we’ve gotta move and we’ve gotta move right now. Wallace, round up the family out there because we’re going to need them. We’ve got a lot of ground to cover.”

            “Ground to cover? What are you talking about? She can’t move. She just gave birth!”

            “She’s not going anywhere – we are.”


            “Just go out there and get everyone ready. We have to go.”

            “Go? Go where?”

            Kamryn grabbed her purse from the floor and returned the contents to the inside. She checked her watch again and cleared her throat for the final time.

            “To North Carolina. If we don’t, she’s going to lose her baby forever.”

            “North Carolina? No. Absolutely not. That’s not what I meant when I said helping her. We almost died the last time we were there and we spent all we had just to get away from there.”

            “Wallace, look at her. Putting our daughter back together again isn’t worth dying over?”

            Wallace looked at his daughter’s face and sighed, but relented. He knew Kamryn was right.

            “So, what’s the move?” he asked with a focused look in his eye.

            “We need to call Daddy first and let him know we’re on the way. Then, we drive all night and don’t stop until we reach his compound. Go rally the family. They’re coming with us.”

            “We’re just going to leave her by herself? She can’t go anywhere for the next 72 hours.”

            “She’ll be fine. I’ll call Grandma and she can take care of her until we get back. Now go!”

            Wallace exited the room without debate, leaving Kamryn and her daughter to speak.

            “Baby, listen to me. It’s been a long three years, but I’m here now and I’m never going to abandon you again. I’m sorry for everything that’s happened in the past, but I want to make amends. Your father and I have to go to North Carolina for a few days to get your baby back.”



            “Her name is Kamaye.”

            A smile crept across Cheryl’s face. “We’re going to get Kamaye and we’re going to put her right in your arms, okay? I promise.”


            “Yes, baby?”

            “Can you sing the song? From when I fell and hurt my knee and had to get stitches? Just one time?”

            “I’ll sing it as soon as I get back. Get your rest, okay? Grandma will be here soon.” She placed a soft kiss on her forehead and walked towards the door. She pulled her iPhone from her purse and looked down the list of contacts until she saw ‘Daddy’ flash across the screen. She hit the call button and she saw that Wallace had gathered each family member and they were waiting on her at the end of the hall.

Finally, the line stopped tilling and a gruff voice answered the phone. “Daddy,” she said sternly. “Daddy, it’s me. I’m on the way and I have a few people with me. There’s about twelve of us. I already know what you’re about to say, but we don’t have time. We’re going to make that motherfucker pay. Do you hear me? Gather everything. Peace time is over.”

            She hit the end button and joined the rest of the family at the end of the hallway, embracing Wallace in a tight hug.

            “It’s good to be home,” she said, before leading them back towards the bay of elevators.

Authors Interviewing Authors | Garvey & A.A.



All art is about identity in some way, because no art can be shaped without contact with the self.  No pocket of the creative world can be utterly without ego— but that isn’t necessarily a negative thing. Self-awareness can be a double-edged sword, but it’s one that’s necessary to wield if an artist is interested in growth and change. No one knows that better than Garvey Hemisphere, who works harder than almost anyone I’ve ever met to actualize his goals and dreams.

Reading his work gives you a vivid glimpse of the prolific writer and CEO himself. From the pages of his telescopic, genre-defying Misconceptions about Sunrises to the evocative, incandescent wordplay of his Dirty Dozen poetry series, Hemisphere has proven himself to be a literary force to be reckoned with. Outside of his own writing, he encourages his team at Vital Narrative to realize the full potential of our ideas with relentless spirit and enthusiasm.  One thing becomes clear when speaking to him: this is a person who not only knows who they are, but knows the trick of self-guided evolution. Hemisphere talks inspiration, self-expression, and the women in his life whose input matters most to him in this enlightening and uplifting interview.


AA:  What's the most surprising thing you've learned as you put out more work?

GH: There's so much work involved in promotion! There's always a never-ending task list of things that you want your readers to know about so they can get excited.  Also, you're only as good as your last project. If you don't engage your readers consistently, it's very easy for them to forget and move on to the next thing. And, the more you write, the more chances you're willing to take with your writing.

AA: Has your growth as a writer changed any of your plans for publishing (are you leaning toward another genre, looking to put more out, etc.)?

GH: I've been writing in multiple genres ever since I was a kid; poems, spoken word for the stage, short stories, novels, screenplays for short films, and features. The only difference are the technical aspects, but the creativity remains consistent from genre to genre—if you allow it. I've never wanted a certain genre to pigeonhole my goals. That's what stagnates your growth as a writer, in my opinion.

I’ve never wanted a certain genre to pigeonhole my goals.
— Garvey Hemisphere

AA: What drives your thirst for growth as an artist?

GH: It's uncontrollable. It's completely out of my hands. My brain is constantly running with ideas and little things here and there to improve. I'm obsessed with putting out things that I feel will express how I feel about a certain topic without literally coming out and saying it. Knowing that there are people out there who will relate and enjoy what I bring to the table also drives the need for growth. Some people feel it's necessary to keep giving the same thing over and over so that the fans will always remain happy, but I think giving them something new much more appreciated—and a lot more interesting.

AA: Stephen King recommends designating a certain reader as your audience and writing to them. How do you approach thinking about your readers as you write? Do you think it's better to not think of them at all?

GH: It's impossible not to think of the reader at all. I mean, we write literally for readers. That's not to say that I worry how readers will feel about everything. At the end of the day, I just want them to get lost in my work and feel a connection to it. I think that's the most you can really expect from a reader. I certainly don't designate a certain reader as my audience because it feels too much like I'm letting someone else dictate what I should write. I always hope my girl likes it because I want her to feel like all the late nights I spend obsessing over my projects were worth it. But that's about it. I've never tried to identify a reader profile or anything. I guess if Stephen King says it works, I should probably consider it though because he's sold like a trillion books at this point.

AA: Whose work has shaped you most as an artist?

GH: Every artist I've been exposed to has shaped me in some form or fashion, but because I dabble in so many different genres and on so many different platforms, I don't think anyone is doing it better than Donald Glover right now. Atlanta was a smash-hit; Awaken My Love was such an interesting take on music when he's known for doing rap; and his stuff on Community and in other media has always been on point. It's like you always know to expect something fresh from him and even if you don't know all the details going in, you know it's going to be a dope experience from him.

Another artist is Phonte Coleman from Little Brother. We're both North Carolina natives and he also dabbles in a few different areas— comedy, rapping, singing, etc. It's so dope to see how people can just do what feels right to them and make it happen, even if it's not what they're mainly known for.

Writing-wise, Toni Morrison's quote "if there is a book you want to read, but it hasn't been written yet, you must be the one to write it" is a mantra I've held tight to for years. It gets all the excuses out the way and makes way for something groundbreaking and the last thing I want to do is do what everyone else is doing.

AA: What are you proudest of in terms of your writing?

GH: Completing Misconceptions About Sunrises is honestly one of the most amazing things I've ever accomplished. Just knowing where I was as I was writing and all that I had gone through - getting that book done and out to the public is still amazing to me. Having my mom tell people that I'm an author and have several books for sale is definitely a proud moment for me as well. I've always wanted her to be proud of me and I finally feel like she is. And also, just having people ask for my thoughts and opinions when it comes to THEIR writing. That means a lot because it means they respect what I've accomplished thus far.

Having my mom tell people that I’m an author and have several books for sale is definitely a proud moment for me as well. I’ve always wanted her to be proud of me and I finally feel like she is.
— Garvey Hemisphere

AA: How do you know when you're done with a piece of writing?

GH: It's hard to put into words, but basically when I feel like adding or subtracting a single word would take away from everything that's written. I have a tendency to over-edit and, sometimes, things are just better left alone.

AA: Do you think some ideas are too weird to execute?

GH: Not at all. Too many people have this need for their art to be understood. Sometimes an idea just needs to be presented and whoever gets it, gets it. If you don't get it, it just means you aren't the audience for it.

AA: What gets you most excited about your future projects? Anticipated reactions, the process itself, something else?

GH: Seeing the final product is honestly the most exciting part. Just seeing an idea go from something I wrote on a piece of paper to becoming a working manuscript, going through edits and all that is great. But the most exciting part is when the book is all finished and your name is on the cover and people are clamoring for it. Nothing beats that. Also seeing how people respond once it's out. Good or bad, I love it all as long as you read it and felt something.

A.A.'s first book of poetry, A Body Held Still By Fear & Loathing, can be purchased here. You can purchase Garvey Hemisphere's entire backlog (Misconceptions About Sunrises, The Year That Answered and A Collection Of Echoes) by clicking here.

Garvey Hemisphere Discusses The Final Installment Of The Dirty Dozen


Q: Why did it take so long to drop Volume 3?

I entered a relationship back in 2014, and as you can probably imagine, this can be sensitive subject matter. She never made it seem like it was a problem, but obviously I wanted to make sure that I considered her feelings. Her friends read the series and I obviously didn't want to make things strange between us. But she's been a great sport and understands the artistry involved. Besides that, I've been hard at work on other endeavors and trying to focus on one project at a time. Unfortunately, it caused Volume 3 to fall by the wayside. But I had so many people hitting me up asking when it was coming, it felt necessary to drop it before the year was out.


Q: What do you hope the fans get out of it?

I've never made it known, but Volume 1 was all about things I had done - that book is like 99% factual. Volume 2 was more of a play on fantasies I had or things I just hadn't had a chance to do at the time. With Volume 3, it's mostly about the taboos. All the things we either want to do or already do, but don't discuss openly. That's how a poem like "Your Best Friend" comes about where a guy is basically having a conversation with his girl about how much he wants to have sex with her closest friend. Or "Valerie" where a man has to decide between staying faithful or sleeping with his boss to keep his job. And throughout Volume 3, you'll see lots of things that are kind of surprising that you may not expect to see or hear someone say. But I think that's the fun of the series. So if you liked 1 and 2, you'll really love Volume 3.


Q: You mentioned your significant other and how her friends deal with a project like The Dirty Dozen. How do your own friends and family deal with it?

For the most part, they've all handled it pretty well [chuckles]. At first I wouldn't even mention it because I have a pretty Christian family and to have a book all about graphic acts of sex can obviously cause a conflict. But a lot of them have read it and enjoyed it, so that's all that matters to me. I mean, we're all adults at the end of the day. But it's not like we discuss it at the dinner table or anything. As far as my friends go, they're all cool with it. They know the type of deviant I can be.


Q: Tell us about the anthology project dropping in February.

The Dirty Dozen books have always been pretty slim on content since they're just 12 poems and only about 30-40 pages. For years, people have always told me they wanted a complete collection and it seemed easiest to just combine them all in one book and that's what the anthology is all about. Just to add a little sauce, I also included three short stories and some additional pictures from the shoot by my good friend Phylicia Taylor (of Phynomenal Photography). If you check my IG (@garveyhemisphere) you'll see how much work went into it. I also have to thank the three ladies involved in all the promo. They all did an amazing job. I'd be remiss if I didn't include them as well. In addition to that, we've got something cooking up for everyone who preorders the anthology. It'll be right around Valentine's Day and it's sure to provoke all five senses. Trust, you're going to want to pre-order if you can.


Q: Is this the end of the series?

I'm about 99% sure that it's complete. It's not the end of me writing erotica and certainly not the end of me writing poetry, but I think in this particular format, it's probably at its end. I've had a lot of fun creating this series and the fact that it turned into three volumes, and now an anthology, far exceeds the expectations I had for it back in 2013. If this ends up being the end of the series, I am more than happy with that.


Q: What's next for Garvey Hemisphere?

The anthology drops on February 3. After that, I'll be working on Smudge, my first spoken word album. We're going to start recording that at the top of the new year and it'll likely be out by the spring. Besides that, I'm working on my second novel, A Very Strange Fascination With Violence. It's something completely different from anything else I've ever done, but I really think people will love it. I'm also working on a podcast and a few web series. I'll have more information on that in the coming weeks. Be on the lookout.

The Dirty Dozen: Volume Three is available now on Amazon Kindle.

The Official Soundtrack For "The Dirty Dozen: Volume 3"


We asked Garvey Hemisphere to curate a Spotify playlist for the latest installment of The Dirty Dozen erotic poetry series and he selected a dozen sexy songs featuring The Internet, John Legend and Ro James sure to get you in the mood.

The Internet - "Special Affair"

This song is just so damn sexy and the whole vibe is really laid back and smooth. “Fuck what’s on your phone, I’m tryna take you home” is definitely a line that could easily fit into the Dirty Dozen series. I almost wish I had come up with that line myself.

Nipsey Hussle - "4 in the Mornin"

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve played this song on a continuous loop for hours at a time. It’s always my go to when I’m doing revisions because the song just relaxes me and puts me in the right headspace. Plus, Nipsey is crazy underrated. More people should fuck with him.

Trick Daddy - "Nann Nigga" (feat. Trina)

How could I not include this song? It’s all about two people trying to outfreak each other (which is how it should always be in my opinion). It’s perfect for this book.

You can listen to the entire soundtrack below or on Spotify.





What's Next For Garvey Hemisphere?


Soooooooo, the other day someone asked me if I had retired from writing.

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The answer is simple: of course not. In fact, I'm just getting started out here in these literary streets. I know it's been well over a year since I put out something new, but trust, I've been writing every single day since I dropped A Collection of Echoes last spring.

So I know what you're thinking - if I've been writing every day, what's the hold up? Let's just say I've just been busy with... ummm... various activities that have been taking up a lot more time than I imagined they would.

But anyway, I'm working on several different projects all scheduled to drop within the next 12-16 months.

First is my long-awaited spoken word album, Smudge. I've been putting that off for at least 3-4 years now and it's time to put it out. The pieces are all written - it's just a matter of getting in the booth and getting all the vocals together. The plan is to put it out before the end of 2016, but it could easily stretch to early 2017. I just want to make sure I'm happy with it.

In addition to that, I've been working diligently on my second novel, A Very Strange Fascination With Violence. It's going to be the first book of a trilogy and I'm really excited to put that out. I really think the fans will dig it. It's got romance, murder, government conspiracies and all that good stuff that people love.

I'm also working on a web series called Kush & Corinthians. As of right now, I'll be writing and directing. I haven't decided if I'm going to succumb to the acting bug that's been digging at me for the past year or so, but I'm definitely open to challenging myself and doing something completely out of my comfort zone. It's shaping up to be a stoner dramedy, but I'm really, really excited about it. The script is still very early in development, but I'm shooting for next spring to get that out.

My good friend Q. Vergara and I have been kicking around ideas for a book project called Down The Rabbit Hole which should be out by next summer. There's also going to be a documentary included with that project that we'll be shooting out in Cali, so expect a lot of behind-the-scenes stuff when that project is about to drop.

And last, but certainly not least, The Dirty Dozen: Volume 3 will be releasing on December 12. If you were a fan of the first two, you're going to love the third (and possibly final) installment.

So there's your update. I hope you're as excited as I am for all these projects to come to fruition. I'll be dropping more and more info as these projects reach completion.

That being said, if someone comes up to you and asks if you've heard about Garvey Hemisphere dropping anything new, you already know what to say.