Writing Wednesday: TFS Ch. 3 Beginning

Welcome to another Writing Wednesday, everyone! Hope you’re all having a fantastic week thus far. It is SO HUMID, but that means rain, which I’m totally fine with. I love summer rain and the petrichor that follows.

I have managed to start the next Therapy For Souls chapter after like, five days of not writing a thing. Last week was just terrible for me and I had no motivation to write or do much, but it’s somewhat back.

I really love the new cover my friend Snigda made for it. She graciously did it as a surprise. It’s so pretty!

1 - THERAPY FOR SOULS

I am completely in love with this story. I know it’s still early days, but I love the concept I’ve conjured in my head, and Parisa is hands down my favorite mc I’ve ever written. It’s amazing how inspiration can come to you at any moment. Society and the Manchester bombing triggered my creative juices, and here we are. That sounds terrible…

Anyways, today’s excerpt is the beginning of Chapter 3 of Therapy For Souls. It is now just one day from opening night, and Parisa is having inner turmoil regarding her tour. The title of this chapter will be called “Tour a proporio rischio,” which is Italian for “tour at your own risk.” I think what you’re about to read will be a nice hint as to why I chose that for the title.

Hope you enjoy this excerpt. I’d love to hear your thoughts. I’ll see you Friday for a Happy Things post.

xoxo – F

Tragedy is inescapable. Every day, there are new attacks, new casualties, and new reasons to fear for the next generation’s future. Even if you live in a peaceable country like Switzerland where crime of any sort is essentially non-existent, you’re still affected. You can’t shake off the horrors occurring in the world—not when the Internet and media make them easily accessible.

I remember thinking concerts housed sanctuary. Nothing serious ever happens at concerts. Okay, sleazebags can harass women in the crowd. Artists usually call those people out if visibility allows. But there is no way anyone can commit a serious crime at a concert because they have the whole security thing down to a T. Or so I thought.

The attacks in Paris and Manchester demolished my “concerts are places to escape reality, therefore they’re immune to being targeted” hypothesis. For three gunmen and a suicide bomber to do what they did in such positive, carefree atmospheres, especially in two of the biggest Western European nations, is beyond me. I was shocked by the Eagles of Death Metal shooting; the Ariana Grande bombing left me absolutely speechless.

And paranoid. Those attacks triggered my paranoia neuron signals. If an Ariana Grande concert can be targeted, who’s to say mine will be safer even with incredibly heavy security? The youngest person who died was a pure, innocent child—she was eight! Where’s the humanity in that? It happened two months ago and I’m still overly anxious about opening night tomorrow.

So many thoughts have been racing through my mind, the primary one being my background. Everyone knows I’m half Persian; I have the closest connection to Islam than any other major female pop star since my mother‘s side is Muslim. My biggest fear is some white supremacist attacking me or holding my fans hostage because of who I am. ISIS isn’t the only threat to humanity, you know.

There is so much evil rooted in a plethora of people, but ISIS receive the most attention because they’re “Muslims” and 9/11 demonized their religion. I bet anything that if a white male tried to kill me or my fans, they’d say he’s “mentally unstable” or some other bullshit excuse. But if, in this hypothetical situation, he is someone with a darker skin tone, he’d be labeled differently—a thug if he’s black, a terrorist if he’s of Middle Eastern descent.

To me, there is no difference in race or religion. If someone intentionally wants to mass murder innocents, then they’re simply a murderer. Differentiating murderers based on melanin or religion is the stupidest form of segregation because it doesn’t matter. Their goal is the same: to kill without remorse.

My team is probably ten times as collective as me. They’re not worried about any terror threats or an attack. They’ve assured me that nothing will happen, not after Ariana’s One Love Manchester Concert showed solidarity and strength from our industry. They say I’m in safe hands and I shouldn’t live my life in fear, but an inner voice tells me otherwise.

Giovanna says I shouldn’t stress about something that has less than a tenth percentage of actually happening. She thinks I’m fretting over a hypothetical event that won’t come true. Concentrate on the show, Parisa. That’s what I should do. I’ve tried to shake it off so my fears don’t psych me out, but I can’t. She doesn’t know what I know, nor does she know what I’ve been through.

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