Sunless and Silent and Deep

“There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you.” Maya Angelou

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I first knew that I wanted to write stories when I was in fifth grade at Rosemont Elementary School. It was such a simple moment. I wrote a story, and I read it to my class. There was a funny quip in the narrative and my classmates laughed. I stood taller. They were listening to me, the nerdy Black kid with the precocious vocabulary.

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My words had the power to move people.

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I was already a voracious reader. Writing was a natural next step. But loving books and scribbling on notepads does not a good writer make. Side note: I did sell a sappy poem to Seventeen magazine for $25.00 in the 1980s, but even if I could locate the stanzas, I would be too embarrassed to share them. In high school, I entertained classmates with a Dynasty-infused reimagining of the doings of teachers and classmates, a soap opera in real time set in small-town, Georgia. Volumes scribbled into lined notebooks.

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Undergraduate creative writing classes taught me to approach writing as a craft. Setting, points of view, narrative voice – I needed to learn the tools and how to use them. I had to learn to write authentically. I had to learn to accept critiques and to use constructive criticism to improve my work.

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By far, the greatest impediment to honing my craft, however, was the stuff of life. Parenting. Working. Paying bills. Adulting. How could I do all of the things and still hold on to my spark, that free flow of creativity that turns an idea into a page and a page into a manuscript? How could I quiet the voice that mocked me, asking who wants to hear My story?

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Now, at long last, I have a manuscript and a publisher and a writing contract. My debut novel, Sunless and Silent and Deep, will be published next month. I get to check off a dream on my bucket list.

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My summer has been spent learning the language of literary marketing. Sell sheets, and synopses, and blurbs, Oh, my! I commissioned a book cover; I began to blog. I even broke out the Spanx, concealer, and lipstick and ventured out into the summer sun for an author photo. It has been exciting. Scary. Surreal. And I am so happy to have this opportunity.

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What’s your dream? Do you have an untold story simmering inside? Sing your song. Write your story. It’s not too late.