Okay, so it all started when I was 11 years old.
No wait, let's actually start from the very beginning. Young AGC age 7. Do you guys remember password journals? I actually had two. It had voice recognition. It was so funny because me being so spontaneous would have tremendous difficulty opening my journal. That was because although it was my name. I had said it different ways on different days than how I had originally recorded it. Sometimes I'd be so excited I'd be yelling AGC! or so tired I'd whisper a low A-G-C. I can actually remember myself prying it open, basically breaking it. LOL!
Well way before I had the luxury of getting that I had your traditional journal with the lock and key on it. I would write every single day. My deepest inner most secrets, thoughts and emotions. The first one I can remember is a journal I got at one of those famous Scholastic book fairs. Those among many other things were the highlight of my childhood.
It was purple and furry with butterflies and a furry pen to match. Lilac or lavender to be exact.
As a kid I'd spend hours with the catalog out viscously circling my book choices. Even going so far as to calculate the total price. I would fantasize and visualize of all the adventures I would go on with my book characters. I would become one with them, locked in my room for hours in fantasy land.
You see, through books I could escape into alternate realities. My safe haven.
It was a dream come true once I entered the room. There were watermelon scented erasers. They smelled so good I had to keep myself from chewing them. (Gross I know LOL)
I began to accumulate many books. So much to the point where my mom began throwing them out. I guess all I needed was a quality bookcase. LOL The books were all stacked up around my room. On my dressers piled high. On the floor, I can see it now. My old room, it's like I never really left.
What first began as a hobby later turned into a career choice. I mean there I was sitting in my room with all these collections of works, my works! Portfolios galore.
My first blog was on this site called matmice created by three sisters. I had teamed up with another aspiring writer my age that started off as a penpal. There we'd post various short stories.
It was called Destiny Writers. For young people who thought writing was their destiny. WHo knows maybe someday that'll be a publishing company owned by me. LOL
The signs were all there. I can remember 11 years old at my beauty pageant National American Miss. At the Downtown Brooklyn Marriott hotel. When it was my turn to speak & introduce myself. I said these exact words:
"Hi, my name is AGC from Brooklyn, NY and I am an aspiring author."
While everyone else said the usual professions like doctor and lawyer I had begged to differ and said proudly author. At the time I struggled with the validity of that very statement. I had my doubts. What steps would it take to become an author? Do I have what it takes?
Shortly after as I entered the 6th grade I had taken very long to finish an assignment where we were required to write some sort of short story fictional yet based on our lives. That's when suddenly it hit me. The project was titled Framed. At this age I realized I could used writing as an outlet of expression. My backstory was juicy and no one would ever suspect that those terrifying tales were of my own account.
The story was about my father being framed and the SWAT team coming to take him down as he was placed on the FBI's most wanted list. It was a very vivid tale of guns, police sirens and surveillance. This was all true in real life except for the fact that I switched it to him being Framed. It was a suspense type story modeled after my favorite genre. At this age I had spent hours reading mystery books, fascinated to uncover the truth.
My favorite author was Joan Lowery Nixon. I would spend time rereading the about the author section. Fantasizing about it being me one day. Her book The kidnapping of Christina Lattimore had me so hooked I completed it in one day.
My admiration for authors like her is what had inspired me to write MY story. After I gave it in. My teacher pulled me aside. She said "AGC I need to speak with you."
Confused I obeyed her wishes.
"Who wrote this for you?" She had my paper in her hand. I had stapled it nicely to a crisp piece of construction paper. A tactic many of us did back in the day for presentation purposes.
At this point I was very confused. Confused because that writing seemed to flow so naturally out of my mind and onto the paper that I hadn't realized how good the paper actually was.
She was fascinated by the story. She assumed that an adult had written it for me or that I had plagiarized. I reassured her repeatedly that it was my own original work. She then grabbed my hand and told me that I am an extremely talented writer and she can see me in the writing profession someday.
I was very surprised. I had a grown woman telling me, this 11 year old that I was going to write someday. She said that she kept rereading and rereading the paper. It had her really engaged. Something I'm not unfamiliar with hearing today, almost twenty years later.
During puberty stage my knack for writing took on a more dedicated turn. It was then that I knew I had wanted to write.
Throughout Junior High I had begun writing a lot of poetry. Some of which I still have today. Me having such keen memory actually memorized some. The transition from child into teenage-hood as a female was especially difficult and confusing time for me. It was a time where you were encouraged and pressured by peers to leave "childish" things behind. Most of which I valued and held dear.
I still liked dolls, cartoons, the whole 9 yards. But I was discouraged from being me all for the sake of being "popular"
I had become a loner. Feeling no sense of belonging. Wise beyond my years. The same feeling of disconnect that still persists till this day. I began to withdraw and spend hours reading, reading and reading. I felt my purpose on this Earth was to write.
The poem went something like this:
I was taken away with no hopes no dreams
Although it may seem like my life is gleaming
beaming like the sun
That is not what its become
My life is a gaping black hole
Ready to steal your soul
When it came time to graduate and choose high schools I stumbled upon the writing section in the high school manual. I circled every single highschool that had writing listed. I ended up choosing BREC: Bayard Rustin Educational Complex. They actually had a writing academy listed as their floors were divided by major interest. Actually, they didn't really practice what they "preached".
I don't remember ANY emphasis on writing.
Once I left that school I attended NMB Senior High in Miami. I took a Creative Writing course and began writing newspaper article style. I still continued my mystery short stories about hauntings, suicide and ghosts. My teachers began having me read to the class for several hours. It was like something out of a book they told me.
By the time 2009 came I was in high school again. John Dewey. I had took advantage of the fact that we could actually plan our "programs" similar to how they do in college. I began taking various journalism, creative writing & fiction courses, even poetry. There my writing improved. I began writing on topics such as anthropology. I spent almost every day in the library for hours on end. Intoxicated by the scent of books, the feel and look.
The ideas surged through me like electricity. Through writing I could live again.
By the time I was in "junior" year I had begun collecting various materials from SUNY and CUNY schools all with CreativeWriting and Journalism listed as majors. I still have hundreds of this material today. I had hopes of going away to places like SUNY Plattsburgh. I spent all day looking at the brochures.
I was going to be a journalist. Even possibly an investigative journalist. Like something you'd see on AlJazeera or VICE.
But life seemed to have other plans for AGC. I went on a downward spiral around 2010 and stopped writing and adopted alcohol, promiscuity and marijuana instead. I just wanted to fit in with everyone else. Since no one was on my level intellectually I would stoop down to theirs. So, I settled. It didn't get me very far because I was trapping my actual potential through being disoriented on drugs and alcohol. But eventually my true calling began slipping through this despite its power.
I didn't graduate with my class of 2011. Tried to finish in 2012, but ended up transferring in 2013. I started writing again. More investigative type articles on controversial topics such as FGM and Abortion.
I tried to attend college but ended up owing money from a
proprietary for-profit school I took out loans from that promised me I could obtain a h.s. diploma and associates degree.
When the money was paid off it was already 2015. So I started KBCC with no knowledge of their writing programs. I went back into Human Services with a concentration in CASAC.
i wrote several academic essays for Psychology, Sociology and Mental Health. I was able to fuel my passion for writing and combine it with my current major. It really worked for me. My professors were always blown away by my work. It took a tremendous amount of research for me to be able to write 20 pages on psychology and racial biases, nativism, islamophobia etc.
I would go over the minimum pages and word count. Then I realized wait I'm a writer at heart who's been stifling myself due to the pressure of people saying writers don't make money. Now I'm in the field of Social Work where the argument is constantly social workers burn out and end up poor.
Well I believe that it's better to be content with your profession than just dong it for the money. I have been able to do my writing but also love my field of mental Health no matter how strenuous. I have combined both and run a blog I wish to turn into a non-profit for young adults in underserved communities.
I have taken a course Mental Health Management and Organization and have two proposals here I presented in front of a panel. I've been working with authors, business owners, entrepreneurs. All people that share the same vision.
I don't regret taking up Mental Health because I am able to write and distribute my works in the field. In a way I am 100% still a writer. College has allowed me to perfect my writing. It also has allowed me to come to the realization that I am a writer at heart. I no longer will ignore and stifle my calling. My calling is to uplift young women, men and anyone in need, share my story and help guide them to becoming the best them.
And Voila! throughout my journey I have two books I will be self-publishing by 2019.
My memoir similar to the Framed story I wrote at 11 years old where my teacher knew I was destined to write. She saw something in me that perhaps I couldn't actually identify yet, being so young. My self-help book is in its second draft stage and should be published by the end of this year. A great book so empower yourself with and curl up with this Winter with a cup of cocoa. LOL
So I guess I'll end with why I decided to bore you to death with my life story of writing lol. I truly believe that we don't really stray too far from the qualities we had as children. Cause if you look at my life you'll see that I am still who i was before. Just more matured. My writing skills have really improved as well as my passion for the craft. I am a writer at heart and always will be. Now I have decided to look into freelance writing as a paid job.
It's like that saying
"If something is meant to be it'll come back"
And Voila! writing has been able to come back to me after the fog from the wayward fazes I went through as a teen cleared. And now it's stronger and I will be more than just an aspiring author and writer as I believed when I was 11 on that pageant stage because I am that now.
Never give up your dreams for others input and negative pre conceived notions regarding your career.
Only you know what's best for you.
-Signing off
AGC
