Why do you write? 

My earliest recollection of writing was when I was 5, receiving a set of cerulean colored greeting cards and being told to fill them with words. The spread was so blank, so clean and perfect that I wanted to fill each cream colored surface with words. My words. From reading corny messages on birthday cards in the department store to participating in pun contests for a prize of free pencils, I realized that words could be art. Words could be woven like thread, splashed upon paper like paint on a canvas; they were malleable and maneuverable and beautiful. That's when I discovered poetry. With poetry, I felt whole. Today, whether I reach for a fresh sheet of paper or jot down thoughts on the side of a napkin, inscribe verses on the palm of my hand or write yet another greeting card, I cannot help but remind myself of that innocent, gorgeous moment- the moment I realized that writing was a blank canvas, that words, my paints, would dance upon. 

 

How did you write This Impertinent Life? 

In 2019, I was exposed to poetry anthologies for the first time- a written assignment for English class. I'd done poetry recreationally before [small units in younger classes] but I'd never written a 30-page collection of words, let alone poetry. By the time I'd finished those 30 pages, I'd felt like the void I had in my heart was full. That was where This Impertinent Life began. 2019 bled into 2020, where a bulk of poetry was written over the summer. 2020 flowed into the early months of 2021, where, finally, I had a book. A book. ​ 

 

I poured my heart and soul- my personal troubles and deepest insecurities into This Impertinent Life. 

I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed creating it.