Much like my book, my home office is filled with images intended to honor the feminine divine.
I finally completed the first draft of my book (yes, the book I’ve been writing for all of 5 years).
At the recommendation of a dear friend, I attended a workshop hosted by The Well on March 31st. After roughly an hour discussing intentionality, Radiah Rhodes (of Evok Life) said something to the effect of, “I know that I don’t know you, and you don’t strike me as a woman who settles - but you’re settling when it comes to your book.” Then she proceeded to give me a gentle read on how I allowed noble causes to stand in the way of my end goal.
That conversation called my bluff. Never have I been spoken to so candidly by someone without the relational capacity that could warrant such directness. All of a sudden I had something to prove… to myself, of all people. This resulted in me creating a home office equipped with furniture that was already being used in other areas of the house. Aside from spray paint, the only new thing I purchased was a lampshade. Realizing that I already had everything I needed to bring that space into being wasn’t lost on me. Never mind the ways it (& COVID) prompted me to begin viewing the rest of my house like Tetris blocks.
However, having a space that inspired me was only the beginning. After all, the space was supposed to compliment my creative process - not my bedroom. This lead to me calling Brandie Freely who gave me a wonderful idea on finding my rhythm again. Despite the simple genius of her suggestion, my rhythm was short lived and those noble causes (read: domestic responsibilities) found their way to the front of my priority list again. And just like that, I was in yet another writing funk.
Insert Radiah and The Well pulling up with yet another program. However, this time it centered accountability. After bartering my way into it (read: hosting the workshop that I’ve been running monthly ever since - which is a topic all its own), I spent the last 6 weeks living my life as the author I’ve long since proclaimed myself to be. I scheduled weekly calls with creatives in my village (that I highly respect) in anticipation of needing feedback or having to talk through ideas I was struggling to put on the page. I cried while writing and spent days being unable to write after picking at old wounds in the name of getting them on paper.
In the truest sense of the words, it has been a long time coming. But in the words of Ms. Celie, “Dear God, I’m here.” There’s still editing and formatting and publishing, etc. - but the end is so close. To the 20+ women who ordered a pre-sale copy of Love Notes for Our Daughters last summer, that order was not in vain. Unbeknownst to me, there was more breakthrough (read: healing) that I needed to experience in order to create closure in my life and with this book.
I hope y’all are as excited to read it as I am to have written it. If you aren’t, jokes on you cause it’s hella good.