Help Realize a Childhood Dream of Writing - Columbia MFA

As a kid all I could do was write strange stories and sing constantly, much to the bemoaning ears of innocent bystanders. I had kind teachers and family members encourage my writing along the way, reading the poems and tales that spilled out on the page, listening to the songs they became. One day at the library I saw each book transform into a person, all crammed next to each other on the shelf, and it sunk in: each of these was written by a person, and I’m a person, so maybe I could find my spot on the shelf.

My sister Nyla and I found blank hardcover books at the local teacher supply store and got to it. With her illustrations and my words, we wrote stories of everyday magic and Twilight Zone-inspired oddities. Our mom faithfully wrote zingy reviews on each back cover, and we imagined these crayon-laden spines on the library shelves. For years when anyone asked what I wanted to be when I grew up I said a writer in New York. My elementary school teachers Sara Belknap, Jenni Dodson, Vivien Carson, Chad Rackowitz, Sarah Price, and Jennifer Goetz encouraged my writing, and the principal Amy Kinkade allowed me to start a school newspaper, The Mathews Times. In middle school I was lucky to have Dana Phillips as my 8th grade English teacher. She introduced us to poetry that felt emotionally potent and real, and she was willing to read poems I wrote outside of class.

I kept writing as I went to high school, but as it goes I grew up and heard all the noise of doubt that naturally comes with creating art in a world where you need to make money to eat. Thus the more practical plans, the more profitable major, the more reasonable choice. Most of my writing became articles for the high school and college newspapers, which I enjoyed, but still hiding deep inside was the nine year old who lost hours on weekends writing deep into the lore of imagined worlds, the feeling of leaving a child by the side of the road haunting me every time I didn’t write the story that whispered to me, each time I tried to drown out the old dream.

I am grateful to my high school English teachers Christine Lawless, Katie Holbrook, Jamie Stanley, and Kerri Ault for their encouragement of creativity within the world of state requirements and college essay prep, and the Austin High Media Arts department, especially Sean Gallagher and Gil Garcia for the space they created to write and direct screenplays that engaged my inner child’s creative drive. I hoped to continue writing in some way, but I was far from the child who dreamed of the books on the shelves, and I felt the pressure to go on to college with something more “practical” in mind. I enjoyed the classes in education and public policy, filmmaking and literature, and yet after several semesters at Duke I felt this strange void where my creativity was hiding.

When my mother died my second year of college, it sunk in deeper that there is no time to waste on anything but what keeps me alive, and what has always kept me alive is writing, expressing, singing out the truth of my experience, my ancestors, the collective pains and joys of this time-space reality. I decided to sign up for a writing class the next semester. I was lucky to work with poet Joseph Donahue in a class that reminded me of the original thrill of writing and the healing power of words, the ability to play with language to create feeling and meaning and share with others in a way that daily conversation often doesn’t allow. This voice kept coming through, channeled almost, and I felt a responsibility to write it down. It felt connected to my inner child’s voice, the voice of my ancestors, the voice of the collective. Saying what is true in a way our hearts can feel it, can really hear it.

It became clear how essential these spaces that nurture connection to a quieter, deeper voice in us all, spaces that lift the echo of the subtlest utterance. Taking classes with writers Nathaniel Mackey, Faulkner Fox, Cathy Shuman, Anselm Berrigan, Lucas Power, and David Graham throughout college was incredibly inspiring and uplifting to my journey with writing.

Alongside a dear friend, I started a neighborhood writing and artmaking space for kids every Sunday for almost two years. As we imagined dialogues between trees and stapled leaves on the cover of autobiographies, I felt the inner kid in me coming back to the table. Hearing their words I felt the magic rise, transcribing as fast as I could as they fervently explained what happened next in the story. As a teacher at Mindful Families of Durham, I led classrooms of three to nine year olds in arts and writing activities connected to mindfulness. The spirit and energy of the kids brought me closer and closer to the original need we all have to create and share. I knew then that creating with children kept me alive, and my heart was called to help nurture spaces for imaginative creation that I was offered by teachers and family. With so much noise and uncertainty in the world, I knew for sure that teaching and writing would be somewhere in my path.

I was shocked to find out that I was accepted into the writing masters program in poetry at Columbia, in the city my eight year old self dreamed of writing in one day, with the opportunity to teach writing to elementary students while I complete my degree. Within this community of writers, I will have a chance to connect with incredibly talented, kindhearted faculty and students, visiting writers and publishing outlets. I feel blessed to have the opportunity to write alongside others inspired by the gift of words, to learn from working writers, and maybe even squeeze myself onto the shelf of a library one day.

I feel incredibly grateful to receive scholarships from the writing program at Columbia and look forward to working as a teacher's assistant in the work-study program to help cover tuition. As we all know, even with grants and scholarships, college isn't cheap, hence this fundraiser! I feel so deeply grateful to all the family, friends and teachers who have read my words, given feedback, wrote with me, and encouraged me to keep writing. This support means the world, beyond whatever financial contribution may be possible. In this new transition, I know this love and support will keep me grounded and inspired.

I would like to offer personalized poems and/or songs to thank you for your contribution. Please send me a word or theme and I will put my heart into crafting a poem/song for you! I can also offer astrology readings, copy writing/editing assistance, and babysitting to anyone living in New York. I look forward to extending my gratitude through words, presence, and any other exchanges the universe may have in mind!

I’ve attached a story I wrote when I was nine and later added poetic annotations, some more writing from childhood, and a poem I wrote this past year inspired by Rabbi Nachman’s “Torah of the Void.” Here is a 16mm film I made based on a poem I wrote a few years ago called “Hyena Dance”: https://drive.google.com/file/d/1VJqgr-JrqIa1lh-raoCw1uJxjs9C2NG0/view

I would love to read any writing or any other creation that anyone would like to share, and I would also love to collaborate on writing projects! Thank you so much for reading my words and supporting my journey.