Dad and the Red Cadillac

“When are you going to write a book so you can buy me a Cadillac?”

With a smile, my dad has asked me this question numerous times. Usually I look at him in bewilderment, because my dream to be a published author is a scary one.  Yet, my dad has always believed in my love for words.

When I was little, he used to take me to the public library. I wandered around the Children’s Room, looking for biographies and American Doll books. My small knees were on the carpet as I explored the shelves. My hands chose a stack of books. Dad and I walked to the checkout counter, with our stacks. For me, books were gifts.

During my elementary school recess times, I opened the wonderful presents. With my back against the fence, I consumed every detail about Lucille Ball or about the fictional Addy, an African American girl who lived during slavery days.

As I attended church with my parents, I was encouraged to read my own words at special services. While I was grateful for positive feedback from congregants, I wanted to hear my dad’s critique. He would say, “That was beautiful.”  My words were beautiful, because my Daddy said so.

When I entered college, I became involved in a struggle of comparison. My writing didn’t sound like my peers. My poetry wasn’t the “cool” and “fast” spoken word that I heard at performances. Since my dad was an hour away, he couldn’t easily sit in the crowd. I had to reassure myself that I had my own style.

“I don’t know what to write.”

I make this statement to my dad now. I graduated college seven years ago, and I am currently in a graduate social work program.  Often, I’m riddled by perfectionism when I have to write a paper for school or for a church service. I start typing words and then I erase them. Despite my nearby tantrum, my dad informs me, “You’ll figure out what to write.”  There’s no long spiel, but a short line of his confidence in me.

In the future, I pray that I will see my name on the cover of a published book. I want readers to be edified by my words. With my earnings, I plan to buy my mom and dad a house. And my dad, the cheerleader, will get his red Cadillac.

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Monica "afrotasticlady" Vance

Monica “afrotasticlady” Vance is a graduate student, writer, and blogger. She frequently blogs about how she holds onto God’s love during the transitions of life at afrotasticlady.com. When she’s not being frugal, you may even see her drinking a specialty coffee from Starbucks.
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Latest posts by Monica "afrotasticlady" Vance (see all)

Monica "afrotasticlady" Vance

Monica “afrotasticlady” Vance is a graduate student, writer, and blogger. She frequently blogs about how she holds onto God’s love during the transitions of life at afrotasticlady.com. When she’s not being frugal, you may even see her drinking a specialty coffee from Starbucks.

7 Comments

    • Thanks so much for reading, Lindsey! I appreciate you and your kind words! Aww…your dad and my dad sound like they are car enthusiasts. That’s too cute that your dad wanted a black Corvette. He had great taste! Blessings to you, sis! 🙂

  1. Pingback: Dad and the Red Cadillac: A Post for the”Encouraging Dads Project” | And I am an afrotasticlady!

  2. Monica! What a beautiful reflection on your dad. And what a gift that her recognized your talent early on and has been consistent in expressing his confidence in you. Just wow.
    Lots of love…Simone

    • Janice, thank you so much for reading and for the encouragement! It is a scary thought, but I like your suggestion of looking into self-publishing. Again, I really appreciate your kind words. May God richly bless you and keep you! 🙂

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