Asha's Big Debut!

I finally got my book out!

Publishing a book sounded like some faraway, distant dream. I first had the idea for “Asha Landry Gives the Solar System a Spin” ten years ago, if you can believe that. Back then, she didn’t even have a name and was known to me only as the shy girl.

I’ve always been considered quiet. Even in grade school, as I prepared to leave the eighth grade, my friends and classmates—who I’d known since kindergarten—chose superlatives and decided unanimously and loudly that I was the perfect candidate for one such position: Quietest. I still remember them calling out my name all at once. There was no doubt. If they said it, it must be true. After all, who knew me better? The quietness continued in high school. They knew me, not unkindly, as the last to speak. I remember the day we chose superlatives for high school as well. I hoped to win Best Artist. I lost, and some were surprised on my behalf. I was pleased by that—at least someone had noticed. I even grumbled under my breath that it should have been me, and to my surprise, one girl next to me said, “I heard that, Ayanna.” Being the quiet one—the shy girl—never bothered me until I left school.

A lot of times they tell you to speak up, try a little harder. But they never tell you why. Apparently, it’s the extroverts, the outgoing leader-types, who get the jobs. If you’re quiet but qualified, there’s a good chance you’ll still get passed over.

I remember the day I’d had enough. I was listening to the radio, and some guy (I can’t and don’t want to remember his name) was talking about how shy people are boring. They don’t talk because they have nothing interesting to say. “Maybe we just don’t have anything to say to you,” I thought. And as I stewed on this, feeling as if I couldn’t do anything—because a year after college I still didn’t have a job—I decided there was nothing wrong with being shy at all. Groundbreaking, I know. But what if I created a character who had plenty to say, just not always out loud? I can’t remember what exactly prompted the first drawing of Asha. She was outside a museum, standing with her classmates, excited to wear her souvenir—a T-shirt that said “Wiz Kid”—and not even paying attention to the troublemaker next to her who was trying to prank her.

My first drawing of Asha and her friends. 2014.

What some people don’t understand about introverts or shy people (the terms are sometimes used interchangeably but aren’t mutually exclusive) is that introverts tend to look inward. Sometimes we’re not even shy. I’m busy daydreaming or thinking about tomorrow. I like my alone time and get my energy from peace and quiet.

At first, this character was just for me. When I showed my mother my art, as I often did, she said I should write a story. About what? She had no idea. That was my job, I suppose. A year later, I drew her again, and a story finally began to take shape. Both drawings involved science. I decided this was her thing, the thing that got her up in the morning, the thing that made school worth going to, the thing she could talk endlessly about, even in front of a crowd. For me, it had been art class, music class, and English class. I loved science too, but I didn’t think I was smart enough to cover the topic. Girls weren’t encouraged to pursue science. Girls weren’t good at math—or so they told us. The message wasn’t overt. No one said to my face, “You can’t be a scientist! You’re a girl!” But in society, the message was clear. So, while I battled my insecurities, the shy girl languished in the back of my mind.

What Changed?

There was no aha moment. For me, growing my confidence was a slow process. I realized that just because I didn’t know something didn’t mean I couldn’t do it anyway. Plenty of people do, after all (orange “presidents” who shall not be named, for example). But I’d written before. I wasn’t a scientist, but I was a writer—and fortunately, Google and the information of the internet were at my fingertips. When I first started, the story had no conflict, the science vocabulary words were nonexistent, and I had no idea how it should end. I did, however, have characters that I loved. While job hunting, creating art, and writing other stories, Asha Landry slowly grew.

By 2021, the pandemic was “winding down,” I had a full-time job, and the shy girl was the closest thing I had to a completed story. I set a goal for myself. I was determined to finally finish that year. Not long after, I stumbled upon an author mentor. Ask and ye shall receive, right? I was still new to TikTok—mostly there for the dance trends and the ASMR cooking videos—but a new trend gripped my FYP (For You Page) in a stranglehold: the Black Girl Follow Train. I went from 200 followers to 2K in a matter of weeks. I found business gurus, writers, artists, small business owners, and everything in between. And they were mostly Black women. My future author coach, Ren Lowe, was among them. I did my research and found she walked the walk as well as she talked the talk. At last, I had the tools to take the next step: self-publishing.

Finding More Than Just a Writing Community

It was because of Ren Lowe that I realized my book could be a valuable educational tool. I had thought about putting in vocabulary words just to help the kids who would read the book better understand and hopefully retain the new information I was giving them. But I never thought of it as a selling point until then. I knew I wanted to write more books about Asha, but I wasn’t sure what topic to tackle next. Now I had an idea. She was here to help kids learn about and get interested in STEM (Science, Technology, Engineering, and Mathematics).

I didn’t think it would take as long as it did to reach the finish line, but knowing myself, I should have known better. Over the four years I spent trying to get my book published, I learned I might have ADHD.

It started out as an odd coincidence. I was still deep into TikTok fun and games and found a lot of creators that I related to. Chronically late, always losing track of… everything, spacing out, crashing out, and feeling like the odd one out—it wasn’t just me. But then I started finding out a lot of them had ADHD. Some were even autistic and had ADHD. Weird, right? People who totally get me have this thing that I don’t have that kind of explains why they behave the way they do. But some were just introverted. There was no cause for concern. ADHD is something kids have. Or so I thought.

It wasn’t until one creator I particularly enjoyed revealed that he’d been diagnosed with ADHD a few weeks ago. Can that happen?! I thought. It can. I started doing research, and more and more adults were getting late-in-life ADHD diagnoses. And then, because my apps talk to each other—or because my phone is spying on me—YouTube recommended the channel How to ADHD. I watched a video out of curiosity and found a lot of great tips. But just because you can identify with people who have ADHD and their tips to navigate life are helpful doesn’t mean you have it. The only thing to do was see a professional.

I was on BetterHelp for several months before this, and I asked my therapist if I should get evaluated. She couldn’t diagnose me, but she gave me a questionnaire, and based on my answers, her opinion was yes—I should probably look into getting a diagnosis. So of course, I put it off. I had more important things to focus on. I worked retail, and the Christmas rush was incoming. I had plans to publish my book by February and then find another job because six months after getting hired, I realized I hated retail more than life itself. I was busy! Too busy to find a psychiatrist.

I just kept working hard. And when I didn’t succeed, I tried working even harder. You’re probably thinking, What took so long? You finished writing the book. Publish the thing already. That’s what I thought too. But I wanted it to have illustrations, and I drew them myself. I thought I could format it myself. After all, I went to school for graphic design. Eight years is a long time, however, and if you don’t use it, you lose it. So, I had to reteach myself how to use InDesign so I could take the book from a Word document and a collection of illustrations in a sketchbook to a cohesive document that I could turn into a PDF. It wasn’t as easy or as quick as I thought.

Finally, I found a psychiatrist. I didn’t like her. She asked me twenty questions and said, “Let’s get you on some meds!” Whoa lady, slow down! I’d heard getting a diagnosis took years. And I didn’t want to jump straight to medication. So, for another stretch of months, I was on my own. Maybe I didn’t have ADHD after all. My scattered schedule, lack of impulse control, and secret temper tantrums were my own business.

I set goals for myself and decided it was time I left my job—whether I had something new lined up or not. Thinking about finally leaving was exciting. Until it came down to the week I planned to put in my two weeks’ notice, and I had what felt like some kind of attack while waiting for the bus. I’m not a psychiatrist. I know there’s a difference between a panic attack and an anxiety attack. But no matter how many times I Google it, I’m still confused. So, let’s just say I freaked out, and my heart started to race at the idea of being out of work. What would I do? How would I make money? What would I tell my family? I lived alone, but surely my relatives would eventually ask, “Hey, how’s work?” So, I booked an appointment with a new psychologist that day. (There’s also a difference between psychologists and psychiatrists, which is probably why the first woman I saw wanted to get me on medication—because that’s literally her job.)

And yeah—it seems like I have ADHD. Probably. When three different professionals tell you that your symptoms are related to ADHD, you probably have ADHD. Still, they’ve never said specifically, “Yes, this is ADHD. And you have it.” It’s like they’re trying to hedge their bets. So, I guess there’s a chance that I’m a mess for no reason whatsoever. Still, ADHD or not, I have to work with my brain and habits to figure out how to make it through life.

Sorry about the tangent (apparently people with ADHD tend to do that too), but I couldn’t tell Asha’s story without telling mine. This is the reason it took four years. This is the reason I’ve always felt different and wanted to write a story about a girl whose struggles are different from most kids’. She’s quiet, and sometimes she’s spacey. She daydreams and hyper-focuses on her interests while sometimes ignoring the things that bore her. There’s nothing wrong with her. She’s not uninteresting. She does have something to say. This book is her chance to speak. And it’s mine.

A look at the inside of my book. 2025.

What to Expect Moving Forward

You can expect updates here every quarter (about every four months), and you can check out my Substack for shorter, more frequent, and small-win-related (or just plain fun) updates. I want to put one out every Tuesday. There I’ll be updating about how I save money, fun events at the local library and in my community and even about querying literary and illustration agents.

Link to my Substack.

https://substack.com/@ayannawatts

Sticking with things has never been my strong suit (thanks, possible ADHD), but one thing that has always been in my life is telling stories. I’ve always loved to draw and write. I’ve wanted to be an author for ten years now. So I won’t give up easily.

There may be some days when I miss an update. It may be longer than I want before the next book is out. But there will be an update. There will be another book. There will also be conversations about mental health, my travels, my struggles, the things I’ve learned and will learn, and space for whatever new thing in the future captures my attention and adds to my life—things I can’t even name yet.

So please stick with me. And if you made it this far, thank you for reading.