I’m a writer, poet, editor, educator, person.
In September 2014, I was a fellow audience member with someone who introduced themselves as a “writer in progress”. After the panel concluded, I went up to them and thanked them for saying that. I’ve always felt like a writer in progress, becoming. I later found out that the said “writer in progress” is a professor of American literature with multiple books published. Damn, I thought. It’s going to take even longer than I thought for me to call myself a writer.
In the summer of 2015, I took down my blog because I needed a more manicured web representation of myself. I’m not really the most well-manicured person though. My manicure is chipped most of the time. Now I no longer had a collection of writings to which I could refer people. Even more of a reason not to call myself a writer.
In September 2015, I quit an MFA program because they couldn’t give me the funding I needed. Surely, I would not be a writer for a long, long time.
There’s no neat conclusion here. No ribbon to tie, none of its curves to catch the light.
This space is an experiment. Here, you’ll find writings by others that I’ve enjoyed, work that I’ve written, and anything else I feel compelled to share.
Welcome. Ya hala feekon.