#writerslife Working on My Ship

There are so many moments in life where we lose ourselves in the world’s chaos. Moments where our roles overlap so much that we lose sight of how valuable it is to give each responsibility their necessary nurturing.

That has happened to me over, and over, and over again. And, I understand that will continue to happen again and again if I don’t openly receive the messages, signs, or green lights that God has put so masterfully in front of me.
Where is this thought coming from or going? Let me share…

I’m in editing mode of my next book. The book that I want to pitch to agents and publishing houses. A book that I know tells a story that is new, sexy and introspective. Hence, my due diligence to get it right.

But trying to get it right has been muddled with so many other existing priorities that I’m trying to juggle at the same time; each losing steam because honestly, my brain is exhausted.

So, I come into work today, thinking solely about how to prioritize my work for the day, and notice a uniquely shaped purple package on my desk.

Befuddled by this object, I open it before sitting down to find out that it’s a card, pens and an angel.

Two pens exclaim the message “Tell Your Story” and “Writing Is My Happy Place”. Then tears began to fill up my eyes because it is true. Writing IS my happy place because it lets me tell my story.

The Angel has “Joy” etched in her robe, with an open embrace to the sky.
The card, well the card says more than I want to share in this post because of its personal message and now its home in my heart. However, I’ll sum it up like this:

Sometimes, we don’t know how our actions or words influence the world that we live in. Sometimes we only notice how chaotic it truly is and how we just need to stay afloat. But sometimes, we need a reminder that our purpose is not to “just stay afloat” but to build a ship that helps the world around us, guiding it in a direction we have been entrusted to go.



The mom of one of my close friends reminded me of that. She gave me words and gifts that woke my spirit back up to complete this book, and the others that will soon follow, to keep blogging and sharing these moments because they are truths in many ways, and can empower those who may not feel that they can also “build a ship”.


“…empower those who may not feel that they can also ‘build a ship’.”

Have you started working on your “ship” yet? You definitely should. I’ll continue to work on mine too.

Stay passionate!


[Writing Prompt] 600-Word Short Story

This weekend, I met with a fellow author who just completed an amazing 500-word short story. And I wanted to try and do the same, but haven’t nailed it yet. So, enjoy this under 600-word short story tapping into my response to a comment made recently.

This story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination, or used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. All rights are reserved so don’t go and still my stuff, and think that I won’t come after you! Enjoy!

Locker Room Talk: What He Didn’t Know

Sunrise Zumba exhausted even the fittest athlete, and today would’ve felt the same if the ladies hadn’t encountered something more draining and deplorable.

“Was Roxanne on one today or nah?” Jamie spouted as she fell over the bench.

“I have no clue but, I tell ya, my ass hurts! I think I’ll crawl those 10 miles to work, rather than riding on this thang.” Claire looked at her tender tush.

“Still the same sagging sac.” The others felt her disappointment.

Jamie to rescue!

“Hey, I could have sworn Amber Rose walked in here before you turned around.”
Laughter filled the air.

They were all on a mission to get rid of the baby fat, therapeutic calories and years of inconsistent dieting. A community of women who knew that uniting was the fastest way over any obstacle.

Group chatter continued until a sobbing echo drifted through the room. They stopped and listened. Someone was broken, hurting, lost and looking to be found.

With each step toward the roaring shower, the crying grew louder. Down on the floor sat a cradled Lauren, drowning in her own tears.

“Are you okay? What’s wrong,” several ladies blurted out. Lauren’s swollen eyes and sobbing speech keep her story buried. Surrounding her, they covered her, lifting her up to walk back to the locker room, hoping to console and uncover the mysterious crisis.

Magnetized to her pain, the women wrapped their arms around her. The warm embrace slowed her rapid pulse and calmed her hyperventilating lungs. Words finally came out.

“I just let him do whatever he wanted.” Her broken voice spoke of her most recent visit with her millionaire boyfriend.

“It was my fault. I couldn’t save enough money to furnish my apartment. I didn’t say no when he said he would pay for the couch. Then out of nowhere, he grabbed me.”

“Grabbed you, like put his hands on you?” Jamie began, already devising a payback trip to wherever he was now.

“No. He put his hands between my legs saying that he now ‘owned’ me.”

The loving crowd turned into a ravenous mob spewing “What the fuck” and “I’ll kick his ass”. They wouldn’t let their sister remain draped in his disgust.

“And I did absolutely nothing to stop him.” New tears began to form, but then Jaime began her sermon.

“Listen to me: Never allow any man to take your most precious gift from God – your essence. You didn’t see it coming but you always have a choice. Get out the car, punch him in the balls, or better yet, tell him to take that couch and shove it right where his soon-to-be cellmate would enjoy, after charges were filed. You have rights, my young sister.” She pulled her chin up high.

“Rights to defend yourself at all times. Rights to protect your temple, no matter the circumstances. You’re the sole owner of its glory. NO ONE ELSE!”
The church yelled “Amen”.

“Oh and if you’re still seeing or talking to him, stop! Don’t waste your energy. Save it for someone who doesn’t have the audacity to feel good about ‘owning’ something or someone. Stay strong. We’ll be here, day after day, to build you back up until you find a King worthy of your temple. Remember, we got you and YOU got you too! You don’t have to take shit from anyone”

Tears dried. Confidence grew. Lauren stood up, gazing at the new self-aware woman looking back at her in the mirror. It was time for her new day.


Join today’s writing prompt and share your 600-word short story!