Recently, I revisited the very first book I self-published in 2009: Ghetto Chick: Words of Heartache and Self-Love. During the pandemic, I taught myself how to use Canva and redesigned the cover, creating a version that I loved and felt reflected the spirit of the original. Yet when I began imagining what the cover might look like in 2026, something unexpected happened.
What started as a design exercise became a journey back to the woman who wrote the book in the first place. In 2009, self-publishing wasn’t trendy. There were no endless tutorials or easy-to-use design platforms. I was a fairly new certified teacher, raising a teenager and a toddler, and carrying the weight of a failed marriage. It was one of the darkest seasons of my life.
Yet night after night, after my sons had gone to sleep, I would sit with my laptop and my journal and write. Those late-night writing sessions brought me peace when I desperately needed it. The bedroom scene on the cover was never just a room. It was a sanctuary.
As I reflected on redesigning the cover for 2026, I realized that the biggest difference wasn’t the typography, the colors, or the layout. The biggest difference was me. The woman redesigning the book today has lived more life. She has taught children, coached authors, raised remarkable sons, navigated grief, experienced healing, strengthened her faith, and learned the beauty of choosing joy.
I recognize that the woman who wrote Ghetto Chick in 2009 deserved tenderness too. She may not have had all the language yet. She may not have known where life was going. She may not have known she would one day build a publishing company, guide other writers, create journals, workshops, and communities centered on healing and self-expression. Yet, she still wrote. She still published. She still believed her voice mattered enough to place it into the world.
Looking back now, I don’t see Ghetto Chick as simply my first book. I see it as the seed of LindarInsights. It was the voice before the framework, the healing before the teaching, the story before the strategy. The cover redesign reminded me that I wasn’t revisiting an old project. I was honoring the beginning of my becoming.
If 2009 Arlinda could sit across from 2026 Arlinda, I believe she would be proud of her. Proud of the books, the coaching, the students, the faith, the healing, the resilience, and the courage to keep trying. Most of all, she would be proud that through every season, I never stopped writing. What began as words on a laptop in the quiet of the night became a life devoted to helping others find and share their voices. And for that, I will always be grateful.
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