Oh Shxt. I'm an Author.

Let's say, hypothetically... Your personality gives Issa Rae blended with Caresha Brownlee. You haven't experienced the infamous perks of being a wallflower. You enter rooms, and heads turn twice: Once, to acknowledge your heavily resounding footsteps. Second, with ears perked up to make sure your voice is coming from your mouth. My swirl of multiple flavors is exactly why I was hesitant to share my work. I'm often met with perplexed looks than a simple 'hello'. I keep telling myself this is what comes along with looking the part. Presenting myself in ways society can accept my physical since my unique character has me feeling displaced in rooms meant for me. I was meant to write across the sky in blue ink. This fear I have of being misunderstood by more of the masses scares me. More so because...

I have yet to grow comfortable in the discomfort of vulnerability.

Writing began as my way to process loss and heartbreak(s). Don't get it twisted. I will rant my girls' phones down to zero percent if they let me. When my throat jailed the pain of losing my first love, I had to find a different, more definite way to release it. Pen to paper. Hand to keys. Thumb to Screen. Thoughts, poems, and stories became more continuous than sporadic. A full arsenal of feels for an audience in the Heavens. That was until the audience turned into my cousin challenging me to write a Novella.

Never did I imagine a short story would lead me through a door unbeknownst to me.

Luckily, we all know the saying, never say never.

So far, I've learned that Author ish is real. As in 'Chris Rock getting slapped in the face' type of real. A once-in-a-lifetime opportunity afforded to few came to me during my period of isolation. I'd retreated to the silence that confined my literal voice for years. Before I knew it, my phone begging for more storage wasn't the only full thing in my grasp. My empty cup was running over. I was able to see the light at the end of the tunnel. To finally be a part of a community of talented, brilliant women illuminated a new path for me. A walk amongst those who embrace and uplift your differences rather than suppress or force you to conform.

I mean, whose pen sisters wouldn't inspire them to write their little heart out?

In a room full of 'OGs', as I revere and perceive, expectations are on all fronts: self, publisher, and readers. It's caused me to teeter over the fine line of self-accountability and self-condemnation. There's no grace to be said when there's no food on your plate, right? That's just it. The plate is full, hot, & ready to go. I'm struggling to find the intersection between feeling confident in my work and once again making myself digestible for the masses. I'm tired of having to mask my quirks to lessen the blow of rejection, criticism, and all the 'isms. I'm not Love Belvin, boss baddie, idgaf if you don't like my work yet. That's a confidence I can't fake, because whew, lbr... that pen of hers is incomparable.

Am I aware of how insecure I sound? Absolutely.

Hence why, I decided to start a blog instead of giving myself a pep talk in the mirror - Thanks, Issa.

If the story is complete after a page, then that's that. I write to leave a tangible legacy in our fast-paced world where one's existence is erased with a press of a button. My mind holds so many stories to tell. Deciphering which one won't be a poorly executed, heap of garbage like my first full-length manuscript, has been shaking me to my core. Amid personifying characters, I forgot that I, myself am very much human. This new balancing act of working, caregiving, and being a twenty-something is harder than hiding the lace on a bad frontal. It doesn't feel impossible. It feels like my one true love is within reach, yet a crazy ex keeps getting in the way.

[Pause] What I mean is... Writing is one of the loves of my life.

Love might not cost a thing, but it doesn't deserve the broke version of me. [Resume]

I'm going to keep trying and knowing that all good things take time. Quality work isn't a race or sprint. It's leaning back and trusting you'll stay afloat in the current. I've decided to release and know that:

I can execute all the feels.

I can deliver a riveting read.

I can learn to run with the big dawgs.

I can embrace my blessing like Fifty's "Get Rich or Die Tryin'."

I can close out this blog post now that I feel a little less out of my head.

I can also openly tell you all that this past year proved that I may bend, but I won't break. I can sum it up with that song lyric "Covergirls don't cry after their face is made." Yeah, that type of bend... Still, I have goals to pursue. Dreams to achieve. No mental or physical health, stuff. Family, stuff. Lovers having the audacity to spiral or pass away on me, stuff. Can get in the way of that.

One pony don't stop no show. & this Cowgirl has already saddled up for the ride.

You're welcome to come along.

XO,

G. Laveaux

The Ride Starts Now.