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#WednesdayWisdom
"Reaching the point where you move on; where you no longer cry, get mad at, repeat, or remain bitter over the lesson, and instead can now laugh at it, is your graduation." — Lalah Delia
Morning Musings
Last week, I had a great chat with writer and professor Dr. Eve L. Ewing in which she got my entire life together in just under 30 minutes.
To provide a bit of background, I spotted her during my new member orientation for scholarship members at The Wing and I was trying to play it cool given my affinity for fangirling over Chicago writers in public spaces (feel free to ask me about my awkward run-ins with Afrobella, Luvvie Ajayi and Samantha Irby). But I digress...

Eve and I ended up leaving at the same time and taking the same elevator, so I decided to shoot my shot and introduce myself and she was super down-to-earth. Later that evening, I slid into her Wing DMs and we ended up meeting IRL to chat writer things.
Upon sharing my goals (to become a published author) and the rejections I'd recently received from literary agents because my platform is "too small," Eve pulled up my social media and website and basically said, "this all looks great, but I can't tell you're a writer."

Well, colored me embarrassed. In my attempt to ensure my aesthetics were "on brand," I'd overlooked the obvious. Like many self-respecting millennials, I love a good multi-hyphenate. So I've spent the last six years trying to add slashes to my title while forgetting this fundamental truth: I'm a writer. Periodt.
Last week, I shared with you all that my 12-year-old self wanted to be editor-in-chief of a teen magazine. Upon further reflection, it seems as though this was only part of the truth. As it turns out, 12-year-old understood capitalism better than I thought and realized becoming a journalist, or better yet, an editor, was a surefire way to make money as a writer.
So to discover my truth -- my real truth -- I had to dig a little deeper and revisit 7-year-old L'Oreal, the one who illustrated and wrote a children's book about dinosaurs in outer space. The one who fashioned a newspaper out of wide-ruled "homework paper" at her grandmother's house.
As it turns out, I've always wanted to be a writer (and a doctor, an astronaut and Janet Jackson's backup dancer, but clearly writing is my true calling). Everything else -- blogger, public speaker, career coach and PR -- is me trying to overcompensate.Â
It's quite simple, really. Writers write. And writing is enough. Last week, I learned a hard truth: I have to get out of my own way, step into my power and trust the process. Everything else will fall into place.Â
Love,
L'Oreal
Links I Love
My Latest Obsession

Say what you want about The Wing, but their biannual magazine No Man's Land is some of the best journalism I've read in a long time next to my other feminist fave, Bitch magazine.Â
As executive editor Deidre Dyer (a Black woman, btw, and yes, this is important to note) wrote in her most recent letter from the editor, each issue of No Man's Land tries to "chip away at the perception of The Wing and bring into sharper focus what The Wing is really like: the difficult conversations people think we're not having."
The current issue, with Fran Lebowitz on the cover, features an article about White Women Fear, a must-read, and ButchCamp. "This magazine is a conduit for the multitude of voices, presenting styles, and disparate narratives that actually populate our spaces," notes Dyer, proving there's more to The Wing than millennial pink sofas and Instaworthy bookshelves, though you can totally check those out, too.
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Well, that's all folks. I hope you enjoyed this edition of LT in the City Weekly! Be sure to follow me on the Interwebs using the buttons below or simply click "reply" to tell me what you think. Thanks a bunches!