From Writer To Published Writer And The Fear That Comes With It…

Do you remember the first time your work was shared somewhere other than between the lines of your journal?

Or the semi perfectly formatted pages of your website?

I guess technically we are published writers every time we become brave enough to let our words take shape on its own, releasing them from the pages we keep them captive on.

However it’s a bit different receiving an email informing you, that the poem that you submitted has been published on someone else’s website or in their book, or wherever else we loosened our grip enough to watch our words travel.

I GOT THAT EMAIL YESTERDAY!!

I am a published writer!!!

I am a published writer. Like an actual published writer.

It was surreal to scroll down and see MY bio under my poem on someone else’s website. You can see my featured poem here on PhoebeMD

It was also very scary…and before you think I’m crazy let me explain why.

For years, writing has been the one thing to remain constant in my life. No matter the length of the hiatus between us, I could always come right back to it. Comfortably-with no awkwardness and resume right from where I left off as if I had never left at all.

My journals never judged me about the ways in which I coped. I was never made to feel less than or labeled the “black friend” as if that was all I had to offer the world. Writing was/is/and will always be MY SAFE PLACE.

With that being said, deciding to open up my home-where I feel the safest-to other writers, and really the world is both exhilarating and absolutely terrifying.

What if this becomes something I no longer enjoy doing?

What if I get caught up in the superficial things and I no longer feel safe writing down the stories begging to be told?

Those are some scary thoughts and they are with me constantly….

Want to hear how I deal with those thoughts and how I try to keep my writing as sacred as the day I opened up my first black and white composition book?

Tune in next Monday to an all new episode of the iHaveWrites Podcast as we discuss the fears surrounding the things we love the most.

rebirth

the hands of time have carried me

through decades of change

on some walls you can still

feel the pain i left behind

as i clung to the moments

i didn’t want to let go

until the girl i left behind whispered

“let go”

the difference in a decade

air feels different

when breathing it in for the second time

my footsteps are lighter now that

i don’t carry the weight of the world

bury your pain into the soil beneath you

water it with the sadness of letting go

then evolve into who you were meant to be…

Daily Photo 3.29.21

Photo by Ylanite Koppens on Pexels.com

The postcard I never had to send

Absorbed my thoughts as I spilled them

Recounting them to me in times I needed them the most

My memories are you

The scar on your elbow is the “Wish you were here” from Mexico

The spaghetti stain on your shirt is the “Having A Great Time” from Italy

Unfit for a back pocket

But the perfect fit for my heart

My forever post card

Forever stamped, return to sender