The Talking Palm: How the childhood storms of a young woman's life remained hidden until a palm fruit started talking

 Sheryl grows up in the Caribbean isle of Dominica believing in a cultural myth that a big bad man called a “skerrit” kills children who do not go to school. But a truant Sheryl thinks that can never happen to her until the day she learns that the “skerrit” has come to get her, and the frightened nine-year old Sheryl face a fate that she thinks nobody can save her from.  As Sheryl matures and encounters more powerful people determined to harm her, however, she fights back the best she can. One day, an unusually mighty friend whom she has been longing to see all of her life finally visits her land.  But the excited twenty-year old soon discovers that her friend’s landing is not what she had anticipated, and more than she had expected.  Stories of stormy as well as delightful encounters in this novel are buried deep within Sheryl, until one night, one late college night, when a palm fruit starts her talking.

Something I Love

Something I Love

I love to write, fun write. This means I like to write whatever I want without fear.  Fear of ridicule, fear of edit, fear of rejection, fear of acceptance.  Fear of anything.  Fear.  No fear.  I get to sit, stand, stoop, lie down and write.  It could be something fun, crazy, original, logical, illogical, long, short creative, analytical. Whatever.   What I write  could be a simple idea, a complex idea.  I could let the idea be or expand it.  And I could do so freely. In my journal, during my devotional, on scrap paper, on a box, in the library, on the bus, on the train ride, in my sleep.  Anywhere.  Anytime.  Anything! Wow!  Freedom. Freedom of expression.

 I could turn one simple idea into a phrase, a sentence, a paragraph,  a story. It could be something that no one could tell me is good or is not good.  It could be a piece of writing that requires feedback or no feedback.  I know.  I may not sound too logical.  I agree. I do not care.  I do not care about sounding or not sounding  logical.  

All I care about right now is to share the amazing joy (I know) and absolute freedom of creating my own life narrative and posting it to my profile as soon as I registered with goodreads.com.  This is the profile I designed below:

I love to fun write.  I love to create. I admire excellence. Bold, free creative writing and expression are in my DNA, are part of my soul. I am also a teacher, community organizer and event planner. I love to plant vegetable, travel, organize and host self-development seminars and workshops. My calling in life is to give voice to the voiceless and inform and hence empower people through stories and strategic bites of information.   

The process of freely expressing myself, my truth from somewhere deep within was so wonderful and ticklish and liberating.  It felt so good, so joyful, so light, so authentic, so powerful. Wow!.  That is me, my heart agreed.  This is my life story or part of my life story in a coconut shell.  Simple.  And it was easy to do. The story lines or descriptive words came easily.  They poured forth from their nesting places inside of me, landed on the tips of my fingers and transported themselves onto the keyboard.   Yes they did. 

That was it.  That was the joy, the joy of doing, doing something I love.  While  I was luxuriating in that happy  space, an idea popped within my chest. Why not use one piece of the profile, the first part or sentence as a wonderful tease and introduction to my first blog? And at the end of my introduction, ask my new friends and supporters and fans the simply question:  What one fun thing do you love to do?