Which is why I could never have gone into journalism. Writing on a schedule, having assignment deadlines, would have left me homeless!
My love for self-expression through written word started years ago, as early as 4th grade. I had a wild imagination, and I was also a note-passer in class. I got in trouble a lot for that. My most embarrassing moment was when my 6th grade teacher demanded that I hand over my note, which she silently read. She blushed beet red and I was mortified. In the note I had said something about my mother's "boyfriend". Well, I meant my father, who was most definitely married to my mother - but my teacher - well, you know what she thought. I don't even remember why I was writing the note. But I knew I'd done something very wrong and had besmirched my mother's good name in the process.
I was also classically trained in piano - and my passion for writing songs with lyrics turned into words without tunes. Poetry. Words that didn't necessarily rhyme, but had a rhythm. My rhythm. My family found out I wrote a bit, and asked me to write for special events - birthdays, family reunions and other celebrations. It took a lot of effort - being asked to write about a specific thing for specific occasions - but it turned out pretty well. Still...I didn't like being told/asked what and when to write.
Fast forward to the late 90s, when the Internet was truly coming into its own, and I was exploring it, in search of African American Poetry online. I found an extraordinary group of writers, poets, griots on a site and began to sit and just read. It was so awesome because you could give feedback and see responses immediately! I'd NEVER experienced anything like that before. It was exhilarating! And I joined in, inspired to write by the gifted poets on the web. My soul was stirred, and for a solid 6 or 7 years, I flowed...vibing off of the writers on the screen. Some of them were published, and many of them encouraged me to do the same. Up until that point, I didn't think I had anything to say that others wanted to hear. But. The artists on those poetry boards affirmed me, and confirmed that I did have a voice.
Over the course of 7 years, a book was conceived. I thought it would be a collection titled,
The Woman in My Attic - and began to market it with that name. When the time came to compile the work, I realized what had come forth was something I truly had not expected. And so it happened, that my debut collection,
Come, Joy! Songs from the soft of night, was published in 2005, by PublishAmerica. It is a collection of songs/poetry that I wrote while under the inspiration of so many other artists, and my own experiences during the period from 1997-2004. The woman in my attic will be my memoir - perhaps. For now, she is exactly who and where she needs to be - all encompassing, everything outside and inside of me.
To date,
Come, Joy! is my singular published work. Friends have asked me when will I publish my next book. My answer is, as always - "when the Spirit moves."
