People interpret art differently and my writing is no exception. I continue to tell myself this to help smooth over any self-doubt. I know my book isn't for those with strict morals or weak stomachs. It’s not for people with trauma triggers or who have no interest in pop culture. Still, I published my authentic story, heavily saturated in these themes.

Feeling apprehensive when turning in my last round of edits would be an understatement. The panic lingers even a year after it has been published (probably why my audiobook introduced more material). Once it’s out there for public consumption the critical lens widens. Ready to target and snap it in its dangerous jaws. Yes, rejection will always sting; that’s a given. For authors who write their life stories, though (like me) it is a little bit harder to stomach. In a way this rejection now means they’re outwardly rejecting the person too. Their life wasn’t a valuable read. Their life didn’t capture the right amount of attention. They weren’t good enough. Ouch!

Still, I continue to submit my work to various online literary magazines, journals, and contests. Why? Because in a world of no, lives at least one yes. And that connection is my end goal, folks. Unity is such a beautifully complicated thing when speaking about the shared messes of life. I hope you can relate to some of mine.