My name is my name
I'm a published author again
So, I’ve been sitting with this idea for a little while now: what if I changed my publication day from Wednesdays to Saturdays? Honestly, Wednesdays were working, but I’ve been feeling this nudge to try something new. I don’t know, maybe it’s the weekend ease, or the way folks tend to move slower on Saturdays and actually have a moment to sit and read. So consider this a little experiment. I’m testing out this theory to see if weekend posts might bring more visibility, engagement, and connection. Let me know your thoughts—do you prefer the midweek check-in, or does a slower, more intentional Saturday post feel better for you? I’m open.
Now let me tell you what lit a fire under me this week.
Earlier in the week, I woke up to an email that stopped me in my tracks, in the best way. It was from the founder of Blackstack, and I felt this wave of energy rise in me, especially when I saw that a new post had gone up on the Blackstack Substack AND that there was a digital preview of the Black Legacy section from Blackstack Magazine: The Visionary. Whew. Talk about motivation. Talk about divine timing.
My writing journey has never been linear. It’s been full of detours, slow climbs, high peaks, and deep valleys. I’ve been writing since I was around 8 or 9 years old. Back then, it was a secret — tucked-away pages of poetry and personal thoughts that I never shared with anyone. It wasn’t until I moved to Canada that I even whispered to myself that I was a writer. I was living at my aunt’s home, trying to figure out life, constantly cold and questioning everything. I found solace in the library that was a few blocks from her house. That’s where I first discovered Maya Angelou. Her words found me, held me, and cracked something open. I was 21 years old.
That was over 22 years ago.
Back then, I was struggling hard with the weight of who I was supposed to be, what I wanted to become, and whether those two versions of me could ever coexist. I didn't have the answers, but I had my words. Writing became the one place I could be honest. It was the one thing that felt like mine.
Eventually, I moved back to Antigua. And honestly? That first year or two back home, I was in a deep depression. I was lost. But somehow, writing found me again. I started entering local and international writing contests. I co-founded a nonprofit with three high school and childhood friends. We staged The Vagina Monologues and used it to raise money to fight gender-based violence in the country. That project eventually evolved into something more personal. When A Woman Moans, our own curated production with all original content from Antiguan women writers. I contributed to that project, too.
It was during this time that I began to publicly share my poem Brown Gurl in the Ring, a deeply personal piece about growing up and experiencing colorism. That poem cracked open a new door. It was selected for international theatre festivals. It got picked up by a college in the U.S. as part of their Black Women’s Studies curriculum. I was featured on the BBC. My work found homes in two international anthologies, one of which also featured Derek Walcott. Like, Sir Derek Walcott. The Nobel Prize winner. It was surreal. And in all those cases, I was paid for my work through usage and distribution rights.
During that time, I had written for print and digital publications, websites, and magazines across the region and internationally. I say all this not to boast but to make it clear that when I say I’m a writer, I mean it. There’s nothing fluffy or casual about it. It’s who I am. And after nearly five years away from writing and creating, returning to it now has been humbling. Healing. Hard. But so worth it.
Because I’m not the same person I was five years ago.
Life happened. Growth spurts, therapy, diagnosis, joy, loss, burnout, healing again. All of that has shaped who I am now and how I write. I’ve evolved into someone who knows what she wants. I’ve begun the process of purchasing my own imprint so I can publish my first full-length book (finally!). I’ve discovered that I’m not just a writer—I’m an essayist. I’m taking screenwriting courses. I’m dreaming bigger. I’m walking with more intention. I’m actively seeking out opportunities to be published, to have my words seen and heard and felt. I’m walking in this truth.
So, let me bring it back to the reason for the fire this week:
Magazine: The Visionary. To be featured in this inaugural issue is not just an honor—it’s a full circle moment. , who’s the genius behind the project, recently shared a heartfelt post titled Behind the Magazine: Legacy about the journey of bringing this to life. And y’all—it gave me chills.The Visionary is a digital archive curated into an aesthetically pleasing coffee table staple. What's inside these pages is the preservation of Black voices through the lenses of spirituality, community, and legacy. With 80 contributing Black creatives including writers, photographers, and artists, this project is a dedicated labor of love.
I can’t wait to get my copy of the magazine, but in the meantime, I want to encourage you—my readers, my community, to support this incredible project. BlackStack Magazine: The Visionary is available now, and you can grab your copy by clicking here. And as a thank-you, I’ve got a discount code: LINISA for 20% off.
There’s also a digital preview of the Black Legacy section available online, so you can get a little taste of the beautiful, powerful work created by all the contributing writers. It’s rich. It’s moving. It’s legacy:
BlackStack Magazine: The Visionary
34.1MB ∙ PDF file
Enjoy this digital preview of the Black Legacy section curated in the BlackStack Magazine: The Visionary!
So here I am. Linisa. The writer. The essayist. The published author. The creative director. The aspiring filmmaker. The woman who is stepping boldly and sometimes nervously into her becoming. I am embracing this journey with wonder, joy, and yes—anxiety, too. But I’m doing it anyway.
We talk a lot about legacy, and for me, my legacy is my words. My stories. My truths. My pages. I recently reminded myself that Maya Angelou published her first book I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings at 41. I’m 43. So… I think I’m right on time.
So to quote the great Marlo Stanfield from The Wire, standing ten toes down in who I am:
“My name is my name.” I am a writer. And I am a published author, again.
Want to support my writing?
Grab your copy of The Visionary here and don’t forget to use code LINISA to save 20%.
Let me know in the comments—Saturday posts, yay or naY?
the.life.of.lin is a FREE weekly newsletter where self-reflection meets the sea breeze—essays and voicenotes on soft living, mental resets, and island magic.
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