We Missed A Meeting

Introduction by The Author

Alright. Boom.

I am a dreamer. Not in that fantastical way that most people think, but instead, I've long been intrigued by the thoughts I have while asleep. Nearly every morning of my whole life, I've woken up, sat on the edge of my bed and contemplated what I've dreamed about. They're sometimes strange, almost always abstract, and most importantly, I was never in them. That's one of the biggest reasons why I've always thought I've been called to be a writer. So many people have considered me to be such a great storyteller, and at the essence of my generation's lore and experiences is indeed the phrase, "Alright, so boom". 

It's the opening credits to stories that are told, but never credited. It's the phrase that explains that the recollections given may include some exaggerations, lots of hand movements, and descriptions so vivid, they leave you in wonder of if the events ever really happened. We were chased by cop cars in Ybor; a forgiving pair of New Balance sneakers under the bathroom stalls; 14 hours spent in a jail cell; lethal needles injected into the arms of an entire community; or even a seemingly utopian community that was bombed because it's existence threatened an immoral status quo. Being Black in America - and Blackness being both universal and diverse - is an immersive experience that is marinaded and drenched in stories both told and untold. I think that's the beauty of it all. It's not passed down from generation to generation, at least not as much as I've ever thought it should be, and for that reason, I'd like to at least create and share the story that I've decided to take responsibility for.

I'm no Aesop, I'm not Peter or Paul, and I'm not Homer, but I'm as much afraid of the future as I am intrigued by the past. Wait. I'm actually not really that intrigued by the past, in fact, I think I'm more disgusted by it than anything else. That humanity chose law over morality, that silence was preferred over peace, and that the world's greatest storytellers often had their stories stolen, broken, or muted - or that credit was never given. That inspiration was often shot down, and that our contemporaries who receive their acclaim and are celebrated are really only few and far between.

I am a dreamer. And for almost 30 years of my life, I've been both puzzled and intrigued by the lucid dreams I've had. My own decisions, both voluntary and involuntary, to ignore some of these stories I think about while I lay rested in my bed have had me backed up for years. I used to write about my own life experiences to try and make sense of who I am, and create a bridge that can close the gap between myself and people who look like me and live like me. Since 2011, I've been on a pretty interesting journey in my writing to change that and, instead, create something more contemporary and much more timeless, that can withstand who I am now and where I am now. Something that can create a relationship with others who come across it as well as a conversation about who we are and who we aspire to be. 

I began writing We Missed A Meeting in June 2017. It's a story that is wrapped in questions. Questions that are for people across the Black Diaspora, but specifically for Black people in America. The collective body of individuals with both dark skin and light skin, who, despite their heritage, cultures, and ethnicities are kindly requested to bubble in the singular identity that is just African-American. Who are we? What does it mean to be us? What is the biggest struggle we face? How do we overcome those struggles? What is the best version of us? What is the worst version of us? And how do we live in our own identity without shame, judgment, and (worst of all) self-hate? Over cocktails, coffee, and even current events, I've had the conversations with peers and elders about some of this, and it's tiring. 

Alright, so boom. 

Maybe I can show you better than I could tell. Maybe I could draw up the context and give you the answer I have, but I think more important than answering the questions we already know, maybe I can inspire you to ask your own questions. Questions you'll take and have over your own cocktails, coffee, and current events. 

In 2016, I began writing a story about the world running out of renewable resources. A plaguing week of the entire world struggling to figure out how we would operate in our day to day activities without so much as electricity to power of comfortable technology-driven world. "Maybe that might be too sci-fi", I thought. "But I'm a sci-fi type of nigga" I told myself. I like Bradbury, Asimov, and I would love if  the entire world would finally say Sophia Stewart's name. The body of work that she produced that brought about blockbuster hits like Terminator and The Matrix franchises were stolen from her and credited to the Wachowski Brothers. She finally won her billion-dollar suit with them in 2013 after almost 12 years of shouting from atop the mountains that those stories were stolen from her almost 30 years ago. Being Black is sci-fi! It's drama, it's comedy, it's anime, it's so many different genres smothered, deep fried, tossed in spices, and seasoned for Sunday dinner or brunch and mimosas. It's all of that. And sure as hell don't hold back on any of these elements in We Missed A Meeting. Blackness can be all of that, not because Whiteness gets to be it, but because we live real lives and have real world experiences, but we have to create that multi-faceted, intersecting picture of ourselves, for ourselves.

Alright, so boom.

It's sci-fi, too. But most importantly, it's unapologetically true to the source material. My hope is that We Missed A Meeting has a character, or scenario, or even a one-liner that makes everyone feel like they've been placed right into the story themselves. And once you're there, I want you to ask yourself: What would I do? There are no protagonists or antagonists in this story, because, just like in real life, everyone's actions are justified by their circumstances and their experiences. We can only act on how we perceive the world. For so long, I've sat as a young kid perceiving the world through protagonists (justified characters) who did not require descriptions because it was assumed they were nothing like what I look like. I wanted to try something new, something brave and bold, and what I've gotten from this experiment is We Missed A Meeting. 

The phrase itself comes from my own confusion about what's happening in the world around us. You know what I'm talking about. The shootings, the acquittals, the protests, the riots, the headlines, the mugshots, the lives, the worry, and ultimately the fear. I'm not taking you to a galaxy far, far away because we are already there. I'm taking you in waist deep to a time that feels far away, but will force us to act and think in the present about things we have often walked by, ignored, or become wholefully desensitized to. OK, so now I'm getting political. Alright, so boom. There's that. 

Sometime this year, 22-year-old Richard Ferguson is starting his job at H.L. Powerman. He might see it as a great job to have after graduating from college, but Richard is going to find himself in a place so many young Black professionals find themselves in. Richard's actions throughout his first and second year are what is going to set the conflict and tension for the opening act of We Missed A Meeting, which I titled "They Chose You, Mr. Ferguson". Again, because of overall dynamics of him as a character and this story being his own "Alright, so boom", we'll follow Richard through the challenges that have long been awaiting him not only in his place of work, but in the world around him. It might not seem to him, but the world was always watching. 

I would like to extend major thank yous first and foremost to Colleen Auguste, my wife, for putting up with me and my random spurts of shouting "we missed a meeting" in conversations, for her support and backing me up on this story. She was an awesome ear and without a doubt super intrigued by this story. She has helped a lot with just my overall being proud of this body of work and putting it into fruition over the last year. I'd also like to thank Talia Sylvain for her active role and interest in this story, its development, and her interest. To Paul March, Maya Goss, and Natalie Lenoit, thank you for giving extra eyes and feedback and just overall being for the cause of editing/revision such a beastly body of work.