Monday Notes: UPDATES!

I’m one of those people who busies herself with all of the things when faced with adversity. So, while some people were in a worried frenzy last year, I was sitting at my laptop writing my life away. This is probably a form of escapism, but I don’t wanna get into that today. Instead, I want to update you on what my creativity yielded thus far:

Stories of Sport: I’ve already told you about this one, but I have to share again. During the beginning of 2020, I’m not ashamed to say I pushed my colleagues to complete a monograph. I’m not the kind of person who puts off projects or abandons them. If I say I’m doing something, then you can believe that it will manifest in some way. And if you said you’re helping, then I’m going to be on your tail, like “Let’s go!” It didn’t matter if we were facing a collective unknown, and it didn’t matter that there were global protests in the streets. I’m glad we persevered. We’ve received nothing short of high praise for a timely publication, and I’m pretty proud of it. My institution even ordered a copy for the library, which is now on hold because people are wanting to read it, something I never considered.

Tough Love: March 2021, one of my essays, “Tough Love” was curated with an organization called the Lungs Project. A close friend sent me their call for essays focused on all things love. At first, I wasn’t going to submit because I didn’t want to write about something sappy. I never do. But then, I had an idea to write about my grandmother and the way she interacted with me during childhood, adolescence, and young adulthood. Maybe you’ve heard of the phrase tough love? If not, it’s associated with raising someone in an abrasive way to toughen them up. Unfortunately, this was published and offered during a limited time, but as soon as I read what my author’s rights are, I’ll share it here if I can.

There’s Strength in Softness: Mid-May 2021, Raising Mothers published one of my essays called, “There’s Strength in Softness.” I wrote this last year, too, but I had nowhere to publish it. This is a frequent happening in my life. I’m compelled to write something, so I do, and then months (sometimes years) later, there’s a call and I’m ready with an essay. Anywho, when I saw Raising Mothers’ theme on tenderness, I knew I had the perfect writeup. This one is based how generational patterns persist.

But here’s the cool part: while I was preparing Strength for submission, I was a bit stuck as to how to end it. One day while practicing yoga, the instructor said something she always says, “Sthira-Sukha,” which means there’s strength in softness. That’s where the title came from and also how I knew this essay was destined to be public. This pub is one of my favs to date because during the process, the editor really pushed me to dig a little deeper and use narrative nonfiction to tell a story, as opposed to using the blogging skills with which I’ve become accustom. I worked hard for this one.

Good Enough: June 1, 2021, another Chicken Soup for the Soul (CSS) series I’m Speaking Now: Black Women Share their Truth in 101 Stories of Love, Courage and Hope will be available for purchase. In it, you’ll find an essay I’ve written called “Good Enough.” My story is about being an Affirmative Action hired prof who worked alongside an arrogant, white male, who didn’t know how to do his job. It may sound familiar because parts of it were first written on this blog. The beauty of CSS is that they don’t care if you published the work somewhere else; they’ll still publish it…and pay you. The other cool thing about this publication is they did a book trailer. And to my surprise, guess whose chapter is featured twice? Here it is, in case you’re interested:



That’s it for my updates! Let me know if you purchase a book or read any of these works.

Monday Notes: Lesson Learned from Publishing an Academic Book

Ever since I graduated with a PhD in August of 2010, I felt like a failure. This isn’t to say I awoke every day and beat myself up about my lot in life, but rather, every time the academic year would begin, I’d be in a physical and psychological slump. It was an energy thing.

It began when I attained my first job at Georgia College and State University in Middle Georgia. Though the actual job was ideal, the location and circumstances were not. Middle Georgia is racist, both explicitly and implicitly; living there was like a step back into the 1950s or 1850s; take your pick. Also, my degreed and experienced husband was never able to get a job there, so we agreed to live apart and see each other on the weekends.

Two years later, a colleague sent me a temporary job at Florida State University, which I applied and interviewed for and took. They “loved me so much” there that they eventually hired me for what I thought was my dream job, a tenure track, assistant professor position in English Education. The problem was again two-fold: institutionalized racism existed and I’d chosen to commute 360 miles so that our family could live together.

Some people can deal with blatant institutionalized racism; I am not one of them. Three years later, I’d decided all of it was too much. I accepted a job elsewhere making twenty thousand dollars less and teaching more classes that weren’t in my niche. The first day of orientation I sat in the bathroom stall and cried. Then, I went to take my ID photo. To this day, my picture shows me as a red, puffy-eyed, hot-ass mess.

I’d failed. But I kept doing all things academic.

At first, I presented at conferences and published in academic journals just in case. I knew I’d need to show my scholarly worthiness just in case I wanted to attain another job at a different type of institution.

“Are you sure you’re done with academia?” one of my colleagues emailed after asking if I wanted to be nominated for some national platform situation.

He and others ignored my answer and continued to co-write and push me on the path we’d all begun.

I published at least once a year and eventually became the chair of a special interest group.

You may be wondering, like my cousin, how someone like me could feel like a failure. Let me tell you. It’s easy to do when you have a strict plan for your life.

When I graduated in 2010, life was laid out. I would find a job as an English Education professor at Prestigious X University. Five years later, I’d be associate professor. Five years after that, full professor. All the while, I’d be publishing my ass off and presenting research all over the world. It’s easy to let yourself down when you’ve got your whole life figured out.

So, each year I wallowed in a slump, while preparing for a just in case situation.

Life became clearer around November 2018. That’s when I met three ladies at a conference in Houston. We each presented our work, which was related to sports media, critical literacy, and diversity.

Afterwards, one of the women said, “We should write something together.”

In January 2019, Lexington Books emailed me with interest in turning my presentation into a book idea. I want to repeat that. I didn’t seek them out. They emailed me. Consequently, I suggested to the other three women that this be the “something” we write together: a book. That led to us creating a call and inviting others to join us.

This month, our book, Stories of Sport: Critical Literacy in Media Production, Consumption, and Dissemination will be released.

Here’s what I’ve learned: Everything is made up, and we can do ourselves a disservice living within made-up rules. Part of the reason I felt like a failure was because I couldn’t see any other way to be a scholar other than what I was told and shown. Those made-up rules clouded my judgment and created my own idea of so-called failure.

Everything is made up, and we can do ourselves a disservice living within made-up rules.

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I didn’t need to work at X University to attain a book deal. I didn’t need to follow a specific trajectory to publish as a scholar. All I needed was to trust my path and do what I enjoyed…writing.

Oh, and I secured tenure at my current institution. It turns out that’s not as important as I thought, either.


Purchase Stories of Sports: Critical Literacy in Media Production, Consumption, and Dissemination and use the code LEX30AUTH21 to receive 30% off.

Behind the Kwote: Your Journey

journey_zero_explanationThis kwote popped into my mind after I’d announced to several people that I was leaving my tenure-track position at Florida State University. There was no visible job prospect in April 2015, but my intuition had spoken and I was listening. Even though my instinct was clear to me it wasn’t to others.

My cousin’s response, “Are you crazy?” Mind you he’d asked me the same question when I announced the commute.

My best friend at the time replied, “What??? Now I can’t say my best friend is a professor at FSU!”

My daughter’s reaction, “Are we gonna be poor?”

My aunt’s email, “So what if you’re the only Black person? Since when did that become a big deal?”

My friend and university’s alum, “What? Why?”

This is just a small number of people and their opinions. But in my mind, there were far too many and I didn’t feel as if I owed anyone an explanation for decisions about my life. With the exception of my daughter, none of these people would be affected by how I generated income. This kwote helped me to see the truth.

kwotedbyBLOG

Oftentimes, this time of year prompts reflection and a sense of renewal. But sometimes we neglect to follow our hearts and inner voice because we’re worried about what family and friends will think about our new paths. Let me tell you something. They’ll be just fine! Now, let me ask this question. If you don’t follow your intuition, will you?

kwoted