As a quiet kid in the 1980s, I was always looking to find ways to find my voice and express it.

I kept a childhood diary (under tiny lock and key) which held a few random musings about love and heartbreak. In college, letter writing and mix tapes (the precursor to texting and Facetime) bridged long-distance romance. Letter writing was an important connection between my dad and I. It provided a way for us to communicate when we struggled to talk to each other.

I learned I was more comfortable scribing than talking about things. Taking the time to reflect, consider, and edit my thoughts felt like a more accurate representation of how I felt. I never really imagined I’d become an author “for real,” but people always said I was good at written expression, so my confidence slowly enabled me to write some more about my world.

Writing wasn’t the focus of my undergraduate education, since my time was filled with rehearsals and performance. But the more papers I wrote, the more I realized I had a knack for it. In grad school, through academic writing, I learned the power of words and the importance of choosing the right ones to get your point across.

Entering the blogosphere

As a working mom, I dabbled in my first blog called The Second Half under the name STdancermom. My entries were limited by time, but whenever I was inspired I opened a document clicked away. At some point, when being a working parent became too all-consuming, that blog started collecting dust. But, that blog planted the seed for what eventually grew into this website, which I started during the pandemic of 2020. I wanted a place to collect and cultivate all the things that were swirling around my headspace. (Thus, the name.)

Now, as an empty nester near the tail end of her first career, I create time to sit down and write. It helps me to unravel and express the thoughts that I have trouble saying out loud. I love the process of the brain dumping, then refining the raw materials into gemstones. I stop and reflect, research and formulate clearer thoughts. My computer keyboard has become the best confidante and source for understanding my adult self.

Seedlings of an author

In 2016, one of my students got me thinking about jumping on the author bandwagon. In one of our many discussions about life and sharing my experience as an educational tool, she asked me if I had ever thought of writing a memoir. I had not, but her question made me think.

What if all that experience has value beyond my classroom?

From that moment forward, I started to chronicle over 20 years of my teaching career, how I got there, and what I’ve learned from it all. The title is Dances With Tigers and is a work-in-progress that I will someday publish as my teaching memoir. I was actually getting ready to move forward on publication in the summer of 2020, but other events got in the way.

Making words matter

In late May 2020, amidst that frightful pandemic lockdown we were all experiencing, a man named George Floyd was murdered by arresting officers, sparking public outrage. It seemed to be the straw that broke the camel’s back in a long legacy of struggle between many in the police community and people of color. In conversations with a friend who was imminently shaken by the news, she asked me if I had ever written my own play. I had not, but this made me think.

I presented a virtual production of the work with Spring Valley High School’s Thespian Troupe 721 in December 2020. In April 2021, I published the play on Amazon. It is now available for licensing with Leicester Bay Theatricals.

That experience of holding my book in my hand? Priceless. Profound. Game-changing. I had walked through a new door that I never thought I could access. It was a new step in the direction I really wanted to take.

Paying tribute

The path we take has so many unexpected turns. What happened in the middle of creating my first book led me to the creation of my second.

In September 2020, I visited my mom in Houston, in what turned out to be the last week of her life. Knowing that things didn’t look good, I sat on the bed next to her and asked her to tell me about as many memories as she could think of while she was able. With my laptop at the ready, I typed as fast as possible, racing to capture as many of her words as I could. I told her that I might someday write a memoir about her. She liked that idea.

That opportunity gave me one last chance to sit by her side and share a long list of things that I had learned from her in my 48 years as her daughter. Those moments formed profoundly special memories for me, capturing the profound memories of her life.

At the end of that week, my mom passed after a long battle with peritoneal cancer.

The memoir is a tapestry of Mom’s stories, the lessons that I learned from her, and looking back to being raised by a woman of such grace, integrity, intelligence and kindness. Writing this book was my way of processing the abyss of grief by connecting to our pasts: individually and collectively.

Back to academia

In August 2021, just before I published What Ronnie Sue Knew, an old college friend reached out to see if I was interested in contributing to a new book he was curating. He and his partner were creating a textbook examining the scope of arts entrepreneurship through a collection of case studies.

Intrigued, I decided to go for it. My study highlighted Astrid Von Ussar, another friend from my Teachers College days, who turned a struggling dance company into an annual national showcase for up-and-coming choreographers.

Moving forward

Each one of these publishing opportunities has strengthened my resolve to continue my development as an author.

As I approach the end of my career as a high school educator, I see a new one on the horizon. I’m excited by the prospect of integrating my identities as a teacher/coach and author. My next project is an exciting one. It focuses on my Geriatric Gymnast journey and what it means to flip the narrative on aging.

The prospect of retiring from one defined career and moving into another as-of-yet undefined one is pretty shocking to my core. Does it scare me? Absolutely. It also excites, elates, and tickles me to think that all of that honed skill and experience just might propel me in ways I can’t even imagine now.

I’m looking ahead to a world of new possibility. It’s the retirement I’ve always dreamed of: not to fade away, but to propel myself to new heights and continue to learn more about my place in the world around me.

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