Seeing the Sometimes Rainbow

rainbow2There are moments when it seems like each puzzle piece has fallen perfectly into place. No square pegs are trying desperately to squeeze into position, and no rogue idea or action is fighting against the flow of the grain.

These instances are incredibly uncommon and this realization is best evidenced by almost every entry on this blog since the beginning of 2014. Existence is often an uphill climb with little thrill in the arms-in-the-air relief from the drop on the other side. We plot and plan, toil and till with some hope that the efforts made will cultivate a crop worth preserving. But uncontrollable variables generally have ideas of their own.

So, I’m overjoyed to report that this summer has offered a respite from the incessant slingshot. For the first time in a long time, positive energy met positive momentum and that dynamic duo has paved a rare golden road of hope, confidence, promise, and self-satisfaction. This was years in the making, but I’m finally able to harvest the fruits of my labor.

Possibilities have taken the place of pigeonholes and the vulnerability is something I can embrace, as opposed to shelter. The key is to maximize the momentum and fuel the fire. I’m far too familiar with the frosty chill that accompanies a stalled trajectory.

So, with steady eyes and a helpful boost from the universal puppet master, I’m walking down a self-generated path. Head high. Focus set. A road of my own creation. A purpose born from pain.

This smog-laden air never smelled so sweet.

Adolescence Interrupted

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A Writer’s World

AI2“The more closely the author thinks of why he wrote, the more he comes to regard his imagination as a kind of self-generating cement which glued his facts together, and his emotions as a kind of dark and obscure designer of those facts. Reluctantly, he comes to the conclusion that to account for his book is to account for his life.”           -Richard Wright

I am beyond happy to report that my book, Adolescence Interrupted, is officially available. To be able to write those words after a seemingly endless publishing period is still surreal, but I’m doing my best to allow the significance of the moment to register. I’m aware this is an event that will only happen once, so I better savor a few smiles before I leap to the next undertaking.

Anyone who was even remotely aware of the mysterious endeavor that took years of secluded labor and emotional excavation understands the weight behind this statement.

A writer’s world is plagued with worry, wonder, and self-doubt. We pound away on these keys in isolation, with little knowledge of road maps or finish lines, and hope for some modicum of coherence or readability. Then, with blurry eyes and bruised fingertips, we swipe the sweat from the screen to inspect our creation. There are sentences or sections that often feel otherworldly, authored by some apparition to help push us down the path. Other times, phrases are buried beneath the marble, and no amount of persuasion or coaxing can bring them to the surface.

It is inside this push-and-pull exercise that we find flashes of clarity and bursts of inspiration. We learn to ride that seesaw up and down until a notion or objective stands, fully formed.

There is no satisfaction in the result without some frustration in the practice. Work worth its salt takes bumps and bruises as it’s built. The writer’s job is to embrace the bout, duck the critical jabs, and stand to fight another day.

Adolescence Interrupted