Writings

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Fourteen months later

This post was originally supposed to have a title of “A year on,” but I kept deleting it. The words weren’t right. I couldn’t focus. It wasn’t turning out to be what I wanted it to be. It wasn’t writer’s block. It was more what was going on in my personal life and the things that prevented me from writing something I wanted to publish. I want to discuss a few things from the past year and where I’m at right now. Hopefully, you’ll want to continue that journey with me.

Email update

Hopefully, this will be the last update I need to make about my mailing list.

My blood is ink

Many people find writing to be therapeutic. I am one of them. One key difference for me is I rarely put things down on paper to never be read again. The majority of what I write is posted publicly.

A classroom exercise secretly makes me a better writer

As a 17-year old high school senior, my English teacher, Ms. Prather, assigned me and my classmates the task of writing about our bedroom and what we saw using as many adjectives as possible. It could be real or imagined. My story was a mix of both. We were also supposed to let the details do the work – show don’t tell – through the use of metaphors and similes.

We spent a week working on the assignment before turning it in on March, 4, 1988. After working on the suggestions Ms. Prather made on my third rough draft, I was confident I would receive a good grade.

Peace is just a click away

Over the past few weeks, I have been making a conscious effort to spent less time on the internet. It’s been a mostly successful endeavor.

DC Fontana

She helped men go boldly where no man has gone before.

Nella Larsen

She was one of the most promising writers to come out of the 1920s Harlem Renaissance, but died alone in obscurity. Her writings today are being revisited as they delve into the idea of race and sexuality in the black community.

An incredible writing opportunity

As the rock cliff is undercut by erosion, overhanging rocks break off. No one can predict when the next break will occur, so view the cliffs from a safe distance.

When I left the Star-Herald in June 2019, I knew there was a chance I would never be able to write professionally again. I had to do it in order to save my physical and mental health. It wasn’t a decision I made lightly. Writing is the one thing in life I have always had confidence in. Despite the fact that my life may have been falling apart in other ways throughout the years, I could always take solace in my writing regardless of genre.

Me and little me

The year that was

For most people, December 31 is a time to reflect on the events in their lives and look forward to what lies ahead. Some participate in making New Year’s resolutions and make goals to do better and be better in the new year. I’ve never participated in these events. I believe if you discover a change in life is needed, do it in that moment rather than wait until some apportioned time set by society.

Since 2017, my new year has been set to November 9. On that day, everything changed. It was the day something broke inside of me, but I do not view it as a bad thing. Over the past year, I have made significant changes in my life, which have helped me to grow as a person and allowed me to start down a path I have chosen rather than settling for the circumstances life threw at me.

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