This is a peek into my head as I begin writing some of the most intimate prose I have in my writing career thus far. Look for a sample of one of these poems tomorrow. I promise it’ll be worth the wait! This book will be released October 31, 2021. Thank you. -JBHarris
There was a time that I couldn’t tap into this gift, and I was completely distraught over it. I have spoken about this at length in WriteLife. But the thing about it is, the person whom was most influential in the discovery, or resurgence of that gift is someone that I veiled…for the better part of 18 years.
I am a writer. I am a storyteller. I am Black, woman and writer. I truly believe that I need all three of these identities to move in the world. I believe without the ability to write, to channel what I feel into a controlled format, I would be in a lot worse shape. But, let me back up…a little bit.
He knows who he is. I have mentioned who he is. And I talk about him in this book as well. Michael Lynwood Brown is Peter Parker. And me? Well, I was his Mary Jane. I was his…completely. In being honest, I had not, have not, loved anyone else as I have loved him. The hardest thing I have done, one of the hardest things I have done, is to walk away from him. For the sake of being a lady, all I will say is the repeated wisdom of what my best friend in the world told me.
“Love is a check. Commitment cashes it.”-M. Southards
In processing all of this, in accepting that I waited on a man—that did not know what he wanted—to want me, to see me, to love me–I wrote. What I thought would be 3 poems with the theme of Death, Burial and Resurrection, has turned into a collection of poems.
I refused to let him live in my head rent free.
However, there is an irony to this. “When I writer falls in love with you, you can never die.” I understand that Michael will be a part of my life always (and being the person that he is, I’m sure he’s thrilled about that)–but the veneer is gone. The kidgloves are off, and the best way for me to process this–is to write it out.
In this collection I am having my own personal reckoning–from messy start to clumsy end! This collection is not a dig at him–that is easy. But it is…tacky. This collection is written to heal…for me to heal. I was in love with this man, for the better part of my adult life, and he didn’t choose me! I am healing from the fact that I have been what amounts to a life-handed wife, side chick, professional toy for a man that could not see who I was or would become! Or, conversely–he did see it, and gave me just enough to believe that I would get this happily ever after. I didn’t. And I never will.
I was the MJ. For those of you familiar with this uber-romance between Peter and MJ should be aware of how powerful that is. I was chosen one! For that cause, these poems will be written through that vantage point of a broken-hearted, loving, angry, sullen and even forgiving Mary Jane Watson. As that persona, I can examine exactly how I feel–and maybe how I got there!
I deal with that: someone that I envisioned marrying, and ending my days with…didn’t want that with me. I was asking too much. I was too insistent about it. I was wrong for wanting a plan! I needed to shrink more. I needed to be more of what he wanted–but he couldn’t be anything that I needed.
I loved him from 22…to 39. This book is salve. It is a balm. It is a reminder that my life didn’t start with him…and neither shall it end with him. Tomorrow will be the first poem that I wrote that will be included in that collection. It will be in three parts, posted all day. Enjoy.
How fitting…but I’m a writer! I always get the last word.