Still I Rise

Back in October, I entered a major literary competition and I wasn’t even shortlisted. Maaan, that stung. It was the kind of sting that makes you question everything. I was ready to give up. Ready to set my computer on fire. Ready to stack every book I have written in the backyard and dramatically watch them go up in flames while I whispered, “It was a good run.”

Yes, I was that dramatic. I even reached for matches. Yes, I still own matches. Do not ask me why. Just know they were within reach.

But just before I lit one, I paused.

I breathed and then I did something that changed everything.

I went back and read some of the reviews on my books. The messages from readers. The notes from students. The words from women and girls who saw themselves in my pages. The reminders that these stories matter.

Suddenly the fire did not feel necessary. So I put the matches back in my pocket. Yes, I apparently walk around with matches, but that’s not the point.

The point is this:

I was bold enough to enter the room. Even though they didn’t shortlist me this time, I hope they know I’m coming back. I have more stories in this head of mine, and I’m not stopping until my pen runs out of ink.

March is also Women’s History Month and it feels fitting. One of my favorite writers has always been Maya Angelou, especially her poem “Still I Rise.”

Still I rise.

That line has carried so many of us. It reminds me that rejection is not the end. It’s often the beginning of refinement, of resilience of return.

So this month, I’m choosing courage over disappointment. I’ m choosing persistence over pride. I’m choosing to keep writing.

Because the stories are still here, and so am I.

Tell me this.

Have you ever almost given up on something you knew you were called to do? What made you rise again?

With gratitude,
Leah T. Williams
@kittiwriter1
Caribbean stories. Young voices. Real life.