Tag Archives: writing

New Decade, New Me: Post-Student Life and Embracing Candidacy

January– the start of a new year and a new semester. This semester is a little unusual for me because this will be the first semester since I’ve started graduate school that I have “off.” The deal is that if you are a teaching assistant (TA) or a teaching fellow (TF) one semester during the academic year, then that semester of work for the entire year. This is absolutely an institution-specific thing, a program-specific policy even. I have friends in another department at my school who have some sort of graduate assistant duties each semester, no matter what. However, they’re guaranteed at least one full year of funding where they have no obligations except to write. It all varies.

So much feels like it’s changed since I last wrote. Last semester (Fall 2019) seemed like the end of an era in a lot of ways. It was the first, and likely last, time that I’ll be a teaching assistant; the next time I set foot in a classroom for an extended period of time, I will probably be teaching my own course. It also marked the end of a series of trials and tests; with coursework, comps and prospectus behind me, as well as the experience of getting my feet wet with pedagogy under a tenured professor, I finally feel ABD (all but dissertation). I feel like everything I do from here on out is for me, on my time, on my terms, and I can begin to craft my career the way I want to, as opposed to satisfying the whims of others.


I’m not a student anymore.

And that means I’ve been spending a lot more time than usual thinking about how I want my career to look, studying the careers of others, reaching out, daydreaming, and hustling. A lot of things have been put into motion that I can’t necessarily say much about at the moment, but in the last few months of 2019 and into this first month of the new decade, I feel myself finding my footing as I begin to walk in my purpose.

The one thing that’s abundantly clear is that I want to write. It seems so obvious to say, but nothing feels like writing for me. Nothing feels like the moment when I get the first words down on a new document or in a new journal; nothing like working through rounds of revisions; and nothing like seeing those words find a home and make their way out into the world.

An important note is that I want to be a writer with range; I recently got to see Lamar Giles in conversation with Meg Medina and the discussion about range has stayed with me. My scholarship, my blogging and my essays are starting to find homes and an audience. I want that for my fiction, too– my novels and short stories. And one day I want to write a comic. I would love to write lots of comics, but let’s just start with one. (I won’t say who I’d want to write but let’s just say her initials are LL.)

One day, I’ll write a post about how I balance all the different types of writing that I do/want to do. For now, just assume I spend a lot of time juggling and dropping the various balls.

As I get further down my path and closer to aligning myself with my own goals, I have come to resent grad school less and less. Yes, I could write a book about what’s wrong with higher education as it stands, but the time I got to hone my thinking, develop my writing, read widely, meet people– specifically, authors and writers…those are skills I can take with me, no matter where I end up. I don’t think I ever would have wrote the novel I drafted last summer if I hadn’t been in grad school, day-dreaming about digital Black girlhood, blogging and writing. I maybe wouldn’t have made the time, or perhaps never even had the idea.

Things happen for a reason, and they’ll reveal themselves in time.

At any rate, there’s still the practical business of having a semester off. What will I do? Well, I still have plenty to do. I still have a whole dissertation to write, research to do, stuff to read to get there. I’ll be making some appearances at conferences: Chesapeake DH in February, SXSWEdu in March and the Lemon Project Symposium later that month. I’m still the graduate advisor of the Africana House on campus so I’ll be working a little more closely with the students this semester. Of course, I’m already back to yoga, but I’m adding in a new cardio class for fun. And I’ll probably be writing across the internet (I’ve already had pieces in Black Youth Project, Wear Your Voice, and ZORA) in addition to my dissertation work and noveling.

I have some cool projects and news dropping soon, too, so stay close to the blog (and Twitter) to be the first in the know.

I’m so glad I’m finding my magic in this liminal space between life as a student and a lifetime as a scholar.

“What do I owe?” | An Evening with Ta-Nehisi Coates

Fun fact: I adore Ta-Nehisi Coates’ writing. I got Between the World and Me in 2015 and never looked back. Just a year later, he started writing Black Panther, and I recall reading digital issues on my iPad in my dorm room, huddled under the covers like a child. In 2018, I was awarded my Master’s degree for a thesis in part based on those comics.

Ta-Nehisi Coates has been an important part of my intellectual coming of age story; so naturally, when I heard he would be keynoting at ASWAD (which was being held in my city), I knew I had to be in that room.

I sat in the packed room last night, taking in the conversation. It wasn’t a traditional lecture, but a dialogue between Coates and a long time friend, Dr. Benjamin Talton of Temple University. The two covered a lot of ground, moving from the intellectual places and forums Coates inhabits to the digital spaces he has shied away from; they discussed his seminal piece, “The Case for Reparations,” and his newest piece of fiction, The Water Dancer; and in between were insightful remarks about practicing history. He read a few passages from the novel and then answered a series of questions from the audience about everything from narrative voice to writing as activism.

There are so many strands of thought that I could potentially pull out as I use this post to digest what I heard Friday night, but I think I want to focus on two moments in particular. The first moment was a series of questions Coates asks himself when he writes:

“What’s my duty? What’s my commitment? What do I owe?”

I wrote the questions down and almost missed a significant portion of the talk because as he discussed his own duty and commitment to writing, I began to think of my own.

I tackle these questions often, think about them almost daily, mull them over with Micah. I think about duty when I write fiction, considering the Black girls for whom I write. I think about my commitment to accessibility in my academic writing. I insist upon maintaining my personality in my writing because I want to show how you make a space for yourself when everything tells you that you are not welcome. And I often think about what I owe to myself. Of course, much of what I do is for other Black girls, but truly, the bulk of my work is selfish. It’s for the little girl I was who needed the stories I find different ways to tell.

I want to show my younger self that I gave myself permission to be large.

There’s magic in that act, which, in a way, leads me to the second moment I’ve been chewing on from Coates. Someone asked Coates about the magic in Harriet and the magic of representations, and he said what I have been preaching about for the last year or so. The supernatural is present, and has always been present, in our narratives. He’s being faithful to the way enslaved folks saw the world, and despite the circumstances, it was always tinged with a touch of magic. He used the talisman Frederick Douglass received that was supposedly to keep him from being beaten ever again as an example. I would also point to Charles Chesnut’s Conjure Woman Tales, and Zora Neale Hurston’s investigation of Hoodoo, and Ntozake Shange’s Spell #7, and Solomon the Flying African, and and and.

Our people are magic, in particular our women. And Coates acknowledges that openly and that moment encouraged me to move forward with my dissertation investigation. To have someone who has been such a force in my intellectual life unknowingly validate my belief was a powerful moment.

And even more exciting was learning that Coates and I share intellectual lineage. When asked about professors and spaces that shaped his thinking, he of course mentioned Howard University and several of the professors he interacted with there. In his fairly extensive list was Dr. Blakey. In stunned disbelief, I wondered if he was talking about the Dr. Blakey that I knew and had as a professor back in 2017. A quick peak at Wikipedia confirmed what I knew as Coates described the work Blakey had done: Coates and I had interacted with and been taught by the same professor.

I came into that room wanting an autograph but I left with an invaluable gift: things to think about. Coates has been provoking me to push further with my thinking for several years now, and I’m so grateful that I had the opportunity to see him in person.

If you want to know more about the conference, check out the ASWAD website: http://aswadiaspora.org/

Meeting Nic Stone and Other Adventures in Friendship with Writers

Last Wednesday night, I got to meet Nic Stone.

For context, there are a bunch of contemporary Black and Latinx women writers (primarily YA fiction writers, but many of them write across genres) who I love, read frequently and carefully, and follow on Twitter and Instagram. This list includes, but is absolutely not limited to: Eve Ewing, Morgan Jerkins, Angie Thomas, Tiffany Jackson, L. L. McKinney, Elizabeth Acevedo, Tomi Adeyemi, Nina Moreno, Erika L. Sanchez, Lilliam Rivera, and, of course, Nic Stone.

Over my life, I’ve gotten more or less the same advice about writing, packaged in different forms: read widely and voraciously, and study the careers of those you admire. Naturally, with the advent of social media, watching my favs make power moves has gotten increasingly easy–as has connecting with them.

I was doing an early morning scroll through Twitter on Tuesday when I came across a flyer for a book signing and Q&A with Nic and author Lamar Giles in Richmond the next day. Up until the moment I saw that advertisement, I had been planning an impromptu trip to the city on Thursday for a Harry Potter flash tattoo event. Jokingly, I tweeted a poll asking my followers if I should go see Nic or get the tattoo, and to my surprise, Nic voted and quote-tweeted my poll, saying, “I voted for me, but 100% because I can’t go to the tattoo event and I’m petty.” The moment she tweeted that, I knew I was going to be at that book event. She seemed a kindred spirit: a Black Potterhead writer with a petty streak.

Even before the Twitter poll closed, I was already picking out my best Harry Potter themed outfit and planning my route to the Chesterfield Barnes and Noble where the event would be held. Before I knew it, Wednesday had come and I was driving an hour against the afternoon sun to meet Nic Stone.

I arrived just in time to grab a snack from the Barnes and Noble in the store before the Q&A began in earnest. Lamar and Nic are good friends, so their easy rapport and back-and-forth made me smile as Lamar volleyed Nic questions. As we neared the end of the Q&A, Lamar opened the floor up to the audience to ask folks what they thought two writers talked about. I smiled to myself as they called back, “Books!” and “Writing!” I made a mental note to tell my soul sister, Micah, about that part when I got home. Later, after I sent her the message, she laughed at the text and replied, “If only they could see our chats.”

Micah has been my writing partner in crime going on four years now. I’ve read multiple drafts of just about everything she’s written since Black Monologues 2015, and she’s my first pair of eyes on most everything I work on as well. Before meeting her, I was never brave enough to think that I could actually publish my writing. Now, I actively keep a stack of projects in my back pocket, ready to pitch at a moment’s notice. Yeah, we talk about writing and drafts and books, but we also have extremely emotional conversations about This Is Us. We have watched Brown Sugar together at the same time in different states so we can live-text each other our reactions even though we’ve both seen the film at least two dozen times. I bore her to tears with rants about Smallville and Avatar the Last Airbender and Harry Potter; she sends me playlists that she knows will take me years to actually sit down and listen to. We talk about God and Indian food; love and mental health; our hopes and our dreams. To be fair, I want to say a solid 90% of them involve writing–but our conversations are as wild as our dreams.

I was thanking God for my soul sister while I watched Nic and Lamar talk, really seeing what a difference it makes to have writer friends.

I waited for about an hour in line to get my books signed, making friends with some nice librarians and a high school English teacher (who was incidentally a W&M alumna) as the line inched forward. Finally, it was my turn. I walked up to the table, suddenly realizing I’d been standing there for an hour and I had come up with nothing to say to either Nic or Lamar. Fortunately, Nic noticed my Deathly Hallows t-shirt, which gave me the opening to tell her I was the girl from the Twitter poll she’d retweeted. One of my librarian friends, who I had handed my phone to for pictures, managed to capture the exact moment when Nic gleefully remembered the tweet and by extension me. She also captured the joy on my face when Nic hopped up to give me a very genuine hug.


A little stunned, I managed to tell her and Lamar a little about me while Nic signed my copy of Dear Martin and Jackpot: that I was a Ph.D. candidate by day and a YA writer/essayist by night; I researched Black women and girls in new media fantastic, digital and futuristic narratives; and that I looked up to folks like her and Lamar. Both of them were warm and engaged as I struggled to make coherent sentences. Finally, after she realized that I was a Ravenclaw, that you could make the “Ravynnclaw” pun and adjusted my personalized autographs in the books to reflect this discovery, I got my picture with both of them, packed up my books, and headed home.

Meeting Nic was amazing for so many reasons. How often do you get to meet a NYT Bestselling author? How often do you get to hug one? Or get a book signed? But beyond that, she met me with real sincerity and interest. It would have been so easy for her to shrug it off when I said I was a writer, but her immediate response was: “Are you working on something?” In a few short moments, we bonded over Harry Potter and tattoos, as well as the craft.

That night, when I got home, and she liked and responded to many of my fangirl tweets about the event, I thought about how lucky Nic’s friends are to have this genuine person in their lives that also happens to be a talented writer.

And then I remembered, as I excitedly sent Micah photo after photo, videos and voice memos as I sat in bed, that I am lucky to have a very genuine person in my life, that also happens to be a very talented writer.

Writers need writers. But we also need friends.

It’s awesome when they’re both.

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