The Bayou As A Metaphor — Why Water Appears In My Writing
I didn't notice it at first.
It wasn't until I was a few pieces deep into building Bayou Bound Books that I looked back and realized how consistently water was showing up. Not always literally. But as a feeling, as an image, as the underlying texture of something I kept returning to without quite planning it.
Once I saw it I couldn't unsee it.
Where It Comes From
I grew up in Louisiana where water is everywhere and it is never entirely still.
Even when it looks calm it's moving. Even when it's quiet there's something happening underneath. The landscape taught me early that stillness and stagnation aren't the same thing, and that depth isn't always visible from the surface.
That's just how it looked where I came from. And it shaped the way I see everything else.
Water As Emotional Language
In my writing, water tends to carry emotional weight more than anything else.
Swamps show up when I want to write about something that resists easy movement. Things that feel thick and slow and resistant the way anxiety does, the way grief does, the way any feeling does when you're in the middle of it rather than past it.
Rivers show up when something is changing whether the character wants it to or not. That particular kind of motion that doesn't ask for permission.
Still water shows up when something is being reflected back. When a character is being forced to look at something they've been avoiding.
None of this is a system I designed consciously. It's just what kept emerging and eventually I stopped questioning it and started leaning in.
Why It Connects The Work
One of the things I care about with Bayou Bound Books is that the fiction and the journaling work don't feel like separate things.
They come from the same place. They're asking similar questions through different forms.
Water is part of what connects them. The swamp metaphor in Get Out Of The Swamp isn't separate from the atmosphere I build in my fiction. It's the same instinct, the same lens, just applied differently.
That feels right to me.
What It Means Going Forward
I don't think the water imagery is going anywhere.
It's too embedded in how I think about the South, about emotion, about the kind of stories I want to tell. If anything I expect it to become more intentional as the work grows.
The bayou isn't just a name. It's a way of seeing things.
And once you grow up somewhere that teaches you the water is always moving even when it looks still, that tends to stick with you.