Under the Baobab Tree Writers' Workshop

Baobab Writers

In the late 90’s, I was a mid-20’s-aged aspiring writer (among other artistic interests).  Emphasis on aspiring. I had zero direction. No degree, no formal training, certainly no MFA.  I’d had a passion for writing going back years. I was a rapper and poet by late in middle school and into high school.  Most of what I wrote, outside of school and rapping around the way, ended up in the drawers and closet in my bedroom. A few of my poems saw the light of day, long enough for me to read to this girl or that girl over the telephone, a plus in courting; I was chubby, so to say.  I needed every advantage. In 12th grade, I joined a Black student organization. Creative expression became an important component of the group and we did a few readings. I did my best to get over my shyness, my reluctance to share what I was writing. I thought I was starting to come into my own creatively.  I started nursing dreams of making a career out of my creativity, or at least my strong proclivity towards the humanities. Read More