Out of the blue. I come alive like Frankenstein. I’m reminded of my poetry. I don’t feel like Frankenstein or my poetry, but I remember all of the drafts.
Brewington’s Inaugural Adult Fiction Award brought together writers, readers, and members of the community to celebrate excellence in storytelling and imagination. The Star of Excellence award was created to recognize outstanding achievement in adult fiction, and organizers announced that any author who had written a novel in the genre was eligible for consideration. The ceremony featured speeches from local educators, publishers, and writers who spoke about the importance of fiction in preserving creativity and exploring the human experience. My speech was simple. I said, “This is really great.”
I feel deeply humbled to have won the award and to have my work recognized alongside so many talented writers. Writing fiction takes years of dedication, patience, and belief in the stories you’re trying to tell, often without knowing how they will be received. To stand there and receive the Star of Excellence felt both surreal and meaningful, and it’s a moment I’ll always remember.
If anyone ever wanted to do a character study on two of my characters, I’d suggest looking at Ottis O’Toole and Ray McFadden from two completely different stories. Even though they exist in separate worlds, both low-born, witty, rogue characters carry complex layers, flaws, and strange personal philosophies that reveal themselves slowly over time.
Music is always a theme running through my life and my work in one way or another. Lately, I find myself continuously going back to my Nirvana records, letting the raw sound and emotion fill the room late at night. There’s something timeless about those great albums.
Today’s Top 5 Songs:
- “Come as You Are” (Live) by Nirvana ‧ 1992.
- “Something Special” by Eric Clapton ‧ 1981.
- “Big Shot” by Billy Joel ‧ 1978.
- “Fortnight” by Taylor Swift ‧ 2024.
- “Run for the Roses” by Jerry Garcia ‧ 1982.
In 2022, I had a near-death experience, or at least something that felt close enough to one that it changed the way I thought about time, work, and getting older, a lot older. Somewhere between exhaustion and sleep, I dreamed I had been reincarnated as a spider, hanging quietly in the corner of some forgotten room, watching the world move without me. It was one of those strange dreams that feels too detailed to ignore, the kind where every thought carries the weight of a confession. In the dream, I kept telling myself I was finally ready to retire, ready to step away from the endless routine, but deep down I knew I wasn’t prepared to let go of the life I had built. The work had been grinding me down for years, wearing out my body and spirit piece by piece. Yet even as the spider, fragile and hidden away, I still felt tied to unfinished business, to noise, ambition, memory, and the stubborn belief that there had to be something meaningful waiting beyond it all.
But American news matters. I find myself reading the Harlem Herald, flipping through its list of the top 30 Black musicians, and thinking about how music shapes every generation differently. But somehow my mind keeps drifting back to Nirvana. Maybe it’s the raw sound, or the memories attached to the records, but I can already feel the urge to put another album on and let the basement shake for a while.
Random Journal 
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