An Announcement

The first time I submitted my manuscript was in March 2023. It was titled Without Cortisol Flooding My Brain, There is Space: A Memoir. I was sure a publisher found my prose lovely and would jump at the opportunity to work with me. I smiled broadly when my book garnered its first rejection. That first letter signaled I had put my work out into the world and had moved bravely toward my goal.

Between August and November of that year, I shortened my clunky title to Cartography: A Memoir. More rejections came, but each one brought me closer to an acceptance. But soon I began to rethink my work and paused my submission process. I got a manuscript consultation; the praise I received boosted my confidence and kept me in the game. The criticism led me to hire an editor.

I resumed submitting and introduced myself to approximately 25 more presses through query letters, first ten pages, and a publication history. In June of 2025, shortly after I received my acceptance for my chapbook, Broken Tribe Press offered me a contract.

I was ecstatic. Surprised. Thrilled. On a high.

It has been a little over a year and though I am waiting to hear back about corrections, I have lived on the edge of nervousness and what ifs. What if the publisher changes his mind? He hasn’t thus far, though the thought has appeared multiple times in my prefrontal cortex.

So with a little trepidation, I am glad to announce that my memoir: Cartography: A Meditation on Mapping Home is in its final editing stages. I will be sharing bits and bobs with you during this leg of the race.

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A story that began years ago grew in scope as I became more curious about my personal choices. As I grappled with anger, betrayal, and confusion, I examined my choices with new curiosity: why did I get married when I did not want to, why did I stay in a toxic marriage, and how did I get here in the first place?

In my search for answers, I studied the human geography of the places I called home. My family history and research led to considering how my origin story includes my third-great-grandfather Nathan “Nearest” Green teaching Jack Daniel how to make whiskey. Post-emancipation, Nathan “Nearest” Green and his descendants worked in Jack Daniel’s distillery. And within the last ten years or so Nathan Green’s legacy as the first known Black master distiller has been enshrined in whiskey and American history.

Our family has had a long intimate relationship with alcohol that has impacted us for generations. I came to understand that alcoholism, racial trauma, and oppression had an outsized impact on their choices and mental health and eventually my own.

Cartography: A Meditation on Mapping Home maps my experiences with home, ancestral history and inheritances, mental health, and movement through the world as a Black woman. The memoir is a combination of narrative, research, and poetry and I’m excited to share with you the cover, publication dates, and events in the very near future.