It’s a full moon tonight and I am in an exquisite mood. I was driving back from Ahu’s when a group of clouds moved and gave may for the moon in her entirety. Perfect circle full of mirth, magic and majesty. Moving between the shadow of concealment and the invisible glory of being seen. But I’m not talking about the moon tonight, I’m talking about me.
Becoming is a terrifying thing. Beneath the excitement and the unmissable rush of the potential of success, under all that buzz is a stomach-curdling fear. Tonight, I just got off a Zoom call with the director of my program, the non-fiction MFA of my dreams. Let me tell you a little about this. There is a seriousness that sprouts in your chest the day you realise who the fuck you were created to be. It puts fire in your belly, steel in your spine and for me, it puts words in my fingers. Whenever something serious is happening to me, I sit down and write. I have been writing a lot recently. The most impressive thing I have written in recent memory is my statement of purpose to The Iowa’s Writers Workshop. I wrote it all in one seating after a very sincere, vulnerable prayer to God. I was so scared before I started and I spoke to my God and this calm competence washed over me and I began:
“In his seminal essay, The Creative Process, James Baldwin wrote that the only real concern of the artist [me], is to recreate out…
