Passing the Baton

Reflecting on the role of external guidance—whether from an editor or a mentor—in shaping our stories and ourselves.

Dear Community,

There’s something surreal about letting go of a manuscript and placing it in the hands of someone else—a mixture of relief, vulnerability, and anticipation. The book that has lived in my heart, consumed countless hours of reflection, and spilled across my laptop is now with my editor. It feels like releasing a part of myself into the world, hoping that the essence of what I’ve created will resonate, inspire, and hold space for others.

This phase of the journey has me reflecting on the power of external guidance. Whether it’s a skilled editor who helps refine your vision or a career coach who pushes you to see the potential you’ve overlooked, there’s something profound about allowing another perspective into your process. For me, this isn’t just about my editor reviewing a manuscript; it’s about the collaborative effort of weaving a story that reflects not just my voice but the collective experiences of Black women navigating corporate spaces.

The truth is, it can be hard to relinquish control—whether it’s over your story, your career, or even your next step. I won’t lie; there’s a part of me that wants to hold on, to tweak one more sentence, to adjust one more idea. But I’ve learned that growth happens when we let others in, when we trust someone to hold our work with care and help shape it into something greater than what we could create alone. In this way, the editor’s role isn’t just technical; it’s a mirror, a guide, a partner in the art of storytelling.

This same principle applies to how we navigate our careers. Often, we focus inward, trying to solve problems or articulate our value without seeking the perspectives of those who see us from the outside. But just as my editor is helping me refine this book, a mentor, a coach, or even a trusted colleague can help us refine our narrative—help us see strengths we might have overlooked and communicate them with clarity and confidence.

As I move through this phase, I’m reminded that stepping into vulnerability is a necessary part of growth. Sending this manuscript off has reminded me that progress is rarely linear, that creativity and clarity often require pauses, pivots, and moments of surrender. The process of writing and revising this book has been deeply personal, but it has also been communal—a reflection of the conversations I’ve had, the lessons I’ve learned, and the resilience I’ve seen in so many Black women navigating spaces not always built for us.

This book is, at its core, a love letter. A love letter to the women who’ve inspired me, to the communities that hold me, and to the generations of leaders who will read it and find their own strength within its pages. But it’s also a roadmap, a conversation about resilience, impact, and navigating systems with both grace and intention.

Now, as the manuscript takes its next steps with my editor, I’m focusing on what lies ahead. The developmental edits, the fine-tuning of each chapter, and the unfolding of the final product that will make its way to you. The book is still in motion, and so am I. It’s a reminder that even when we feel like we’ve reached a milestone, the journey continues.

I want to leave you with this thought: Who are the editors in your life? The ones who help you revise your story, shape your narrative, and see the beauty in your work even when you can’t. Maybe it’s a career coach, a trusted mentor, or a friend who reminds you of your potential when you’re in doubt. Lean into those relationships—they are gifts.

And as always, I’d love to hear from you. How has external guidance shaped your journey? What role has vulnerability played in your growth?

With gratitude,

Edua