June is my birthday month and what a month it has been. Fifty-two years ago, I was born during a time of civil unrest and great transition in the U.S. Martin Luther King was assassinated two months before I was born and Robert F. Kennedy was assassinated the day after my birthday. The second wave women’s movement, the civil rights movement, the Black Arts movement, the peace movement, and the LGBTQ movement were all well underway by the time I was a few years old. I’ve always known that my life as a scholar and creative person is predicated on the sacrifice of many nameless activists and change makers who helped pave the way for me. During the first week of June 2020, protests against police brutality directed toward Black and Brown bodies erupted in the United States and around the world. Over the past few weeks I have felt a gamut of emotions as many in the United States are wrestling with our deep legacies of racial injustice. I have felt stunned, uplifted, numb, exhausted, saddened, angered and empowered. I’ve tried to allow myself the time and space to experience all of those feelings.

It is rare that I miss a week communicating with you. Lately though, I’ve wrestled with what to say from one creator to another. Despite all the challenges happening in this moment, my creativity has never felt more solid, deeper or richer. During the past several months, I have dug even deeper into my creative urges and projects.  And, many seeds that I’ve been planting in my author garden have started to bloom. I’ve felt guilt though about sharing some of the recent joys and successes. I’ve wondered if readers would wonder why I wasn’t addressing the current moment more. As a creator of color, I am always navigating a complex, inner set of conversations that arise from the complexities of living in a racially stratified world. For example, I wondered should I address the conversations happening in publishing as a result of Black Lives Matter? Should I provide a list of resources about anti-racism for readers? Do I want to provide such lists? How much do I wish to talk about social justice and writing? By not talking about social justice and writing will people think I don’t care about the present moment?

Such questions left me tired.

Historically, writers from dominant communities have had the luxury of not thinking about these issues, or choosing to engage with them as they see fit. The good news is that is changing.

Here’s what I want to say to you, dear reader: I’m thinking about you. If you are struggling as the world is changing around you, you’re not alone. Your creativity and work, however, in the world matters. So does, in my opinion, trying to make the world more just. We as writers and creatives are being called on to undertake more visible and transformative social justice work in the world. This means exploring injustice at the micro and macro levels. In the writing world, this could mean looking at the leadership and structure of the writing organizations we support, the kinds of books we review, and the authors we network with. I believe this is a good thing. I hope you have the energy to do something to make the world more just in your sphere of life. It’s messy. It’s tiring and it sure isn’t pretty. If you don’t have the tools, find kind people that will share their tools with you. Doing this work in community makes the work more joyous.

Also, I have always known that my role on the earth is to uplift and inspire others. I do that in multiple ways as a coach and writer. It does no good for me to play small and hide in the shadows. There are a million ways to resist interrelated systems of oppression and for me, one of them is creating. It does no good for you to play small, either. I will write and share about whatever moves me. That’s basically what I have been doing for the last decade on this blog. I’m saying it here so that I remember it, too.

I’m sharing with you some recent writing joys. I’d love to hear yours, too.

My noir-ish story, “Miss Black Little Hill of 1965” appeared in the recent issue of Blood and Bourbon, a Canadian literary journal. I can now say that I am an internationally published author! A snippet below.

Miss Black Little Hill of 1965

Isabel fingered the teardrop emerald earrings while waiting for her husband to open the passenger door of their car. Two weeks into their marriage, and his gifts kept coming. And, he promised more! She smiled at her good fortune.

He’d caught her eye at church. Strangers at church always do. He said he was visiting his distant cousin. Smooth dark skin, wavy hair, a fine new peanut-brown cashmere coat. Ruby rings on his fingers. From Pensacola, the big city.

A smarter woman would have noticed different things about this man, asked pointed questions. But she didn’t need to be smart, did she? She was, after all, recently crowned Miss Black Little Hill. 1965 was her year, she could feel it.

I shared last November that I attended the Hay House Writers Workshop in Houston. It is hosted by Hay House Publishing, a leading giant in the publishing field on health, spirituality and personal transformation books. In the workshop, they teach you about the publishing business, especially how to write and pitch nonfiction book proposals. Unlike fiction manuscripts where you complete the entire book and then pitch your work, in nonfiction, you write a proposal *before the book* and pitch the idea.

I had wanted to attend this conference for years as I have been working on a book about creativity for some time. So, I made the commitment to go. It was a gift to myself. One of the wonderful things about the workshop is that attendees can submit their book proposals six months later to HH in consideration for publication and you only “compete” with the other attendees. How cool is that? There were about 250 people in attendance and about 75 people submitted proposals. They provide three publishing prizes. Although I didn’t win one of them, I did receive HONORABLE MENTION for my book proposal: The Creative Tickle: 52 Ways to Tap into Your DNA and Divinity!!! And with honorable mention (which I didn’t even know they did) I got SPECIALIZED FEEDBACK on my proposal from the Acquisitions editors. How cool is that? I’m that much closer to getting my ideas into the world. I’m so glad that I didn’t talk myself out of going to the conference (which would have been easy to do for a million reasons) and also of submitting my work (ditto!).

I gathered some of the many wonderful authors together to do a virtual reading from Feminine Rising: Voices of Power and Invisibility, a collection that was released last year, edited by Andrea Fekete and Lara Lillibridge.

I shared some insights from the introduction and then several amazing contributors read an excerpt of their piece. I read a snippet from my essay, “The Poisons Our Mothers and Grandmothers Drank”. The anthology was published last year and there were a few live readings. Timing is a funny thing though, many of us had hoped for the collection to be more visible and despite their being more than 70+ authors, it was hard to get the marketing efforts off the ground. Then the readings that were scheduled for this spring were cancelled due to the pandemic. I decided to reach out to the editors and suggest hosting some virtual readings. They loved the idea and I ran with it. I’ll probably host two more. It was fun and I always learn something new using Zoom. Writers and readers are all desperately seeking community and to feel connected and virtual readings help. I also think that this collection gets timelier every single day.

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