At first, I wasn't going to post any of my writing here, as I want people to actually visit my website. Then, I realized that in a few months, I'll be creating an entirely new website, so I said screw that. Also, I wouldn't mind gaining a few new potential fans. So, I'm going to periodically post excerpts of my work here, and if you like what you read, PM me and I can link you to the entirety of the piece.
I'm going to begin simply by copying and pasting the About blurb I wrote for my website to give you a feel for where I'm coming from (with slight edits to remove geographical markers and whatnot, denoted with X). You'll notice that I talk about creative nonfiction a great deal, but I do write fiction and poetry (ew) as well, the latter often being very spiritual/sensual in nature. My prose often plays on plant-life analogies for life and death. If you dig that sort of stuff. When I share blips of my work, I'll label it at the top as either Creative Nonfiction or Fiction.
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Mid-October, 2002, hidden away in the lounge of the X Funeral Home in X, Louisiana, I took advantage of my mother's distracting grief and poured cup after sugary cup of my preferred concoction, powdered creamer with a splash of coffee. With a cheap, three-subject notebook tucked under my arm and an ink pen innocently stolen from the guestbook table, I paraded around the property, squeezing through crowds and patiently enduring too-tight hugs from grown-ups I didn't know; I was on a mission. I interviewed each of my cousins that day, asking "What's the one thing you'd want Maw Maw Lil to know?" and "What is the greatest thing that you've learned from her?" I compiled our responses and wrote a final letter to her that was placed inside her casket and buried. This was how I coped with experiencing loss for the first time. I was nine years old.
In 2014, I earned my BA in English from X State University, with an unsurprising concentration in—drumroll please—creative writing. Born from my grandmother's death was a relentless passion to write, and as I developed the craft, I realized that writing was not only therapeutic for me but for my readers, as well. A minor in humanities broadened my understanding of a world that did not revolve around X X, and this renewed perspective paired perfectly with my skills as a writer. I could use words to make a difference in the lives of others throughout my own discovery for truth, hope, and healing. I'd been empowered to do just this my entire life, but I finally accepted this gift.
In elementary school, I won various awards for fiction and poetry in the Young Author's Contests. As the eighth-grade student of the year, I'd been tasked with writing the closing address to my peers. I still remember my wavering voice as I compared our education and social development to a walk along the beach. I remember receiving the highest score that my high school had seen on an English end-of-course assessment. All the while, I explored writing fables, folklore, and a twelve page research capstone on human trafficking. I had both poetry and nonfiction featured in Teen Ink magazine, and the essay distinguishing Christian artists from Christian music was voted as the Editor's Pick several weeks in a row. I came alongside a friend when he revived the school's newspaper, The Stampede, and worked as both a contributing writer and the managing editor until I graduated.
I continued helping peers with essays when I began college, working as a writing consultant. It was this that motivated me to change my major from art to English. Although I loved art nearly as much as writing, this move was expected by my closest friends and family, who would point out that I was a natural at writing and that it came to me like breathing came to everyone else. Others simply could not picture me pursuing anything else!
At X, I contributed the maximum amount of prose allowed in Mosaic, the official literary magazine of XSU, served on the editorial board, and later as the assistant editor, and I was honored when I learned that I had been selected as a finalist in the David Middleton Poetry Contest. However, my heart had taken root in creative nonfiction, a genre that I didn't even know existed until my second year of college when I'd taken the required course, and I was ecstatic to learn that of my graduating class, I received the Katherine Tracy Award for Outstanding Graduate in Creative Nonfiction!
My grandmother's letter might be considered my first memoir project, a portrait of one woman who impacted the lives of countless others. Although I write fiction and poetry, screenplays, and blogs alike, my favorite work is to take the everyday characters and conflicts of our lives and weave them together into a story that grabs its reader and says, "Hey, you over there. You're not alone. You're not."
I'd love to hear your stories. I'd love to sit next to you, share a carafe of coffee, kettle of tea, or whatever you find comforting—I'm not that picky—and get to know the people who have shaped you. Maybe you're considering sharing your story as a tribute to someone special, but you aren't quite sure how to string together your ideas in a cohesive way. When you can't seem to find the words to paint your memories in a tangible way, I can help you find them.
Or maybe you've stitched together a story, essay, or any other written work, for that matter, but you'd like a second set of eyes to comb over your project to ensure professional quality and no misplaced commas? I can help with that, as well.
We all have our own story, and each of our stories interconnect to form one expansive work of art. It's time for a collision between you and me. X.
