A QUICK NOTE
I spent this week at a writing residency in Eureka Springs, Arkansas. My soul was cracking, and I had to take a break from New York City to replenish.
At Dairy Colony, I had a choice to stay in the Maya Angelou or the Langston Hughes suite. Since it’s Women’s History Month, and my novel focuses on the endless cycle of unrealized potential and inherited generational trauma on Caribbean women. I choose the Maya suite; I needed her wisdom to inspire me. And you know what – it did.
Whenever I wanted to throw my computer outside the window and call my novel a failure –Maya, Toni, Tayari, Michelle, Jane, Tanesha, Yolanda, Tarz, Nikky, Zahra, and the other beautiful women who occupy my world– would show up. They’d all take up space in my writing room, speaking their magic into me, and plugging me back into the rhythm, back into the beat, back at the crossroads where words and storytelling meet.
Then I would continue writing.
Who needs to read my novel? I’m not sure. Why write this novel? I’m not sure.
But for the last ten years, these characters have been licking at my ear. They wake me up in the middle of the night, pleading for me to give them a home. They want a place to dwell in.
This week, all of the women mentors and muses in my life kept me sane.
I’m beyond thankful for all the women in my life, and all of the women in your life. They are allowing us to take up space and run the world.