Austin Smith on Basketball, Adversity, Friendship, and the Journey to Becoming a Young Author

Ross: You have a unique journey through college athletics. Can you please share a brief overview of your journey so people can understand what you overcame?

Austin: My journey has been truly unique. In high school, I was a talented basketball player and received several Division I offers from my sophomore through senior years. However, during the summer before my junior year, I broke my ankle just before the live recruiting period. After that injury, I felt lost, and many of the scholarship opportunities I had worked toward disappeared.

I had to pivot and find a Division III school that genuinely wanted me and where I felt I could thrive. Throughout that process, I relied heavily on the values my parents had instilled in me: work hard, remain passionate, and overcome whatever obstacles are placed in front of you.

College athletics became one of the biggest challenges I had faced. I often felt like things weren't going my way and that I was constantly fighting an uphill battle. But those experiences made me more persistent. They taught me to be prepared for anything and to believe I could figure things out, even when I didn't immediately know the answer.

I leaned on myself, my parents, and my friends to navigate those challenges. If I had to summarize my college-athletic experience in one phrase, it would be: “Figure it out.” Every day, I had to apply myself and determine what I wanted to do next.

Basketball was also an incredible outlet for me. Having teammates who value you, support you, and look out for you is incredibly important. We all need a support system. No one can successfully navigate life completely alone.

I am originally from Memphis, Tennessee, but I moved around while growing up, including to Arkansas and the Virginia area, because my father was in the military. Those moves and the sacrifices my family made helped me build resilience and become the person I am today. My parents consistently encouraged me to become a better man and, above all, someone others could count on.

Ross: What were the biggest life lessons you learned through athletics?

Austin: One of the biggest life lessons I learned through athletics is not to get too high or too low. When things are going well, do not let success go to your head. When things are difficult, do not allow those challenges to consume you.

To me, that means controlling what you can control. I learned in school that I needed to be more mindful of my self-talk and the way I viewed myself. Every day is different. New obstacles will arise, new opportunities will present themselves, and you have to be willing to pivot and prepare for whatever comes next.

Preparation became a major part of my life. I wanted to be prepared not only as an athlete and student, but also as a person—someone who could carry a conversation, connect with others, and build meaningful relationships. I learned to ask myself, “How can I help you build what you are trying to build, and how can I help myself continue to grow?”

Athletics teaches those same lessons. Basketball is such a fast-paced game that you have to develop a short memory. You cannot dwell on the previous play because you immediately have to focus on the next one. I believe having a short memory is one of the most underrated skills we can develop in life. You cannot spend too much time dwelling on things you cannot control or on situations that are not going well, because circumstances can change quickly.

At the same time, everyone handles situations differently. There is no single response that works for every circumstance. Life is nuanced and constantly changing, so we have to learn how to adapt.

Ross: How did your real-life experiences help you create this book?

Austin: My real-life experiences played a major role in helping me create this book. Much of the story comes from my own experiences with adversity and low self-esteem.

When I was a freshman in college, I broke my foot, and it was extremely difficult to deal with. I was told that I might never play basketball again. I saw three or four doctors, but no one could determine exactly what was happening. After living with the pain for nearly a year, I finally had foot surgery.

During that period of trial and uncertainty, I spent a lot of time trying to figure out what my next steps would be. I was not ready to give up basketball or leave school, even though there were conversations around me about whether I should do exactly that. I felt lost and knew that I needed something to push me forward.

Rise Up Ronnie is ultimately a story about finding yourself and recognizing the importance of having friends who can help you get through difficult situations. Friendship is one of the most important values we can have. Having people in your life who are dependable—people who will answer the call, respond to the text, and stand by you—is incredibly meaningful.

My own experiences also gave me a way to express some of the things I had been carrying with me. I knew what it felt like to try out for teams, question whether I was good enough, and desperately want to prove to myself that I could succeed.

That is why Ronnie represents so much of me. Ronnie is a kid who simply wants to figure things out. Through conversations with his friends and family, he learns that he is stronger than he realizes.

One of the biggest messages I hope readers take away from this book is the power of encouragement.

Ross: If someone were considering buying your book, what would you tell them?

Austin: If someone is considering buying my book, I would tell them that this story is for everyone. It includes friendship, family, sports, injury, perseverance, courage, and personal growth. Those are all important elements, especially in a children's book.

At its heart, this is a story about friendship and perseverance. It is about having the courage to stand up for yourself when things go wrong and being able to say, “I am not going to let this defeat me because I believe in myself.”

Readers will see the importance of believing in yourself, having the willingness to improve, and remaining open to learning. I do not have all the answers. I am still a young man—I am only 23 years old—and I have a great deal left to learn.

That humility is actually part of why I believe this book can connect with so many people. I did not write it as though I had all the answers. I wrote it because I am still looking for answers myself. I want readers to understand that this story, this life, is never truly finished. I may be 45 or 50 years old one day and still be saying, “I need to figure it out.”

Life does not stop when you get older. It keeps moving, and we continue to learn.

I also believe children—especially Black children—need to see themselves represented in books, literature, television, and entertainment. Black kids, and Black boys in particular, deserve to see themselves reflected in stories that encourage them to believe in what is possible.

If I could give young readers one message, it would simply be: You can do it. I wish more people had told me that when I was younger. That is the message I want to share through this book—a story about life, friendship, perseverance, and caring for one another.

Ross: What inspired you to become an author at such a young age?

Austin: My inspiration for becoming an author at such a young age came primarily from my own experiences, my family, and the people who influenced me throughout my life.

I was not an avid children's book reader growing up. I had books that I enjoyed, but reading children's books was not something I did extensively. My inspiration came more from watching my little cousins and nephews grow up and figure out life, observing my sisters, and reflecting on my own upbringing.

My community and the coaches I had also played a significant role. I had many coaches who instilled in me the importance of becoming a well-rounded person and a great young man. They taught me that being successful was about more than basketball, academics, or any single area of life. I was a student-athlete for a reason. I wanted to develop as a complete person.

My faith was also a major source of inspiration. I believe the Lord gave me the courage, strength, and knowledge to believe that I could write this book and share it with others.

My father also encouraged me to become an author. He and my mother were adamant that I should write because they believed I had a gift that needed to be shared with the world. At first, I did not necessarily see myself as a writer or believe that I had a gift for reaching people through words.

But as I continued writing and became more invested in the process, something changed. I began to feel that this was my calling and that writing was something I was meant to do.

Ross: How has the master’s program you are in differed from your undergraduate experience?

Austin: The master's program is very different from undergraduate school because it offers much more freedom and independence. In a master's program, you may have only one or two classes each week, which means you are responsible for managing much of the rest of your time.

I see it as a balance between being fully independent and still having the structure and support of school. At the same time, you begin to understand how education can be used as a tool for networking, building relationships, and preparing for a career.

Another major difference for me is that I moved to a new city. I moved to Boston, a place I had never lived before, and I am experiencing new things every day. Honestly, I would not want it any other way.

Undergraduate school can feel like being in a smaller, more contained environment. You are on campus, surrounded by familiar people and routines, and over four years you develop a rhythm that becomes comfortable.

A master's program opens you up to more opportunities, spaces, people, and career paths. You are also often moving to a new city and learning how to navigate a different environment.

Having just graduated from undergraduate school, I can clearly see the difference. In undergrad, I generally knew what to expect each day. I knew where I would be, where I would sleep, and what my routine looked like. Graduate school requires you to figure out more things on the fly.

Because master's programs are often only two years, you also have less time to establish yourself, build relationships, and create a new routine. That makes the experience challenging, but also exciting.

Ross: What advice would you give to your younger self?

Austin: I would tell my younger self to stop worrying so much.

When I was younger, I wanted to control everything—the narrative, how things happened, why they happened, and what the outcome would be. I tended to overthink because I wanted to control every aspect of my life.

I would tell my younger self to slow down.

By that, I mean take one day at a time and appreciate each moment while you are living it. I remember being eight, nine, and ten years old and wanting to grow up so quickly. I wanted to become older and experience everything that came with adulthood.

Now that I have grown up, I realize that I would have benefited from appreciating my childhood more. I would tell my younger self to embrace being young—to appreciate the innocence, the simplicity, and the freedom of not having so many responsibilities.

Once you enter the real world, you have bills to pay and responsibilities to manage. You have to become someone others can depend on. I have talked a lot about dependability throughout this interview, and I think that lesson applies here as well.

I would also tell myself to stop worrying so much about how other people will respond. People are going to make their own choices, and you cannot control how they react to everything you do.

The only thing you can control is what you give to people and how you choose to show up.

Most importantly, I would tell myself, “It is going to be okay.” Even when things do not go your way, it is not the end of the world. You have time to fix things, learn from them, and make them better.

Ross: Which children’s book impacted you the most growing up?

Austin: Honestly, I do not have one children's book that I would point to as the book that impacted me the most.

When I was younger, I enjoyed reading works by Mike Lupica, who wrote sports stories involving basketball, football, soccer, and other sports. Those stories were a source of information and entertainment for me.

However, I did not have a specific book that served as a blueprint for the book I eventually wrote. There was not one book I kept referring to and thinking, “This is what I want to create.”

I did not really have a blueprint. I simply felt that I needed to approach the story in my own way and tell it from my own perspective.

That is ultimately what I did. I created the story in a way that felt authentic to me and to the experiences and messages I wanted to share.

Thank you for reading!

Link to order Rise Up Ronnie

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Anthia Moore on Healing Childhood Trauma, Setting Boundaries, and Breaking Generational Patterns

Ross: What inspired you to write your first book?

Anthia: The Remembering was inspired by my own journey of healing and returning to myself. For many years, I carried experiences from childhood that I didn’t fully understand were still affecting the woman I had become. I learned how to survive very early, but survival and healing are not the same thing.

As I began doing the deeper work of understanding myself, loving myself, and healing the younger versions of me, I realized that my story was bigger than just me. There are so many women walking through life carrying wounds they learned to hide because they had to be strong.

Writing The Remembering became a way for me to give those women a mirror. I wanted to say, “I see you. I’ve been there too.” This book isn’t only about what happened to me. It’s about what happens when a woman decides that her past will no longer determine who she gets to become.

Ross: Your book opens up about your childhood, including the experience of growing up without your mother consistently present. How did those early experiences shape the woman you became and your eventual journey of healing?

Anthia: Growing up without my mother consistently present created an abandonment wound before I even had the language to describe it. As a child, you don’t always understand the circumstances of adults. You simply wonder, “Why wasn’t I enough for you to stay?”

Those experiences made me independent and resilient, but they also taught me to become strong before I should have needed to be. I learned how to suppress emotions, adapt, and keep moving.

Later in life, I began realizing that some of the things I called strength were actually survival mechanisms. Healing required me to go back and meet that little girl with compassion instead of judgment. I had to remind her that she was worthy of love even when people she loved couldn’t give it to her in the way she needed. That changed everything. Instead of continuing to search outside of myself for what I didn’t receive, I began learning how to give those things to myself.

Ross: You left home at just 16 years old. Looking back, what do you understand now about that young version of yourself that you may not have understood then?

Anthia: At 16, I thought I was simply doing what I needed to do. I didn’t recognize the courage it took to leave home while I was still in school and try to figure life out.

Looking back now, I see a young girl who was incredibly brave but also carrying far more than a 16-year-old should have had to carry.

For a long time, I viewed that version of myself through the lens of survival. Now I view her with tenderness. I don’t ask, “Why did you do that?” I ask, “What did you need?”

That question became an important part of my healing. She didn’t need judgment. She needed safety. She needed reassurance. She needed someone to tell her that her feelings mattered and that she deserved to be heard.

Today, I can be that woman for her.

Ross: A major theme throughout The Remembering is healing the inner child. What does inner child healing mean to you, and why is it so important for women who have experienced abandonment, disappointment, or childhood trauma?

Anthia: Inner child healing means acknowledging the parts of ourselves that are still carrying emotions, beliefs, fears, and unmet needs from childhood.

We can become adults, build careers, raise families, and take care of everyone around us while still having a younger version of ourselves quietly asking to be loved, protected, seen, or chosen.

If we don’t become aware of those wounds, they can influence our relationships, boundaries, self-worth, and the way we respond to rejection or abandonment.

For me, inner child healing isn’t about living in the past. It’s about finally giving ourselves what we needed so that the past doesn’t continue controlling the present.

Sometimes healing begins with a simple question: “What did I need then that I can give myself now?”

Ross: You write about becoming a mother and realizing that you wanted your children to experience something different from what you experienced. How did motherhood change the way you viewed your own childhood and healing journey?

Anthia: Motherhood became one of my greatest mirrors.

As I loved and cared for my children, there were moments when I realized just how much children need emotionally—not only food, clothing, and shelter, but reassurance, affection, consistency, safety, and the freedom to have a voice. Giving those things to my children made me recognize some of the things I had needed as a child.

That realization could be painful, but it was also healing. I had a choice. I could repeat what I knew, or I could consciously create something different. Motherhood made me more intentional about healing because I understood that my children weren’t only listening to what I told them—they were watching how I loved myself, how I allowed others to treat me, how I handled my emotions, and whether I honored my own boundaries. I wanted them to inherit love, not just survival.

Ross: Your story is deeply connected to breaking generational patterns. What does breaking generational trauma mean to you, and how can one woman begin changing patterns that have existed in her family for generations?

Anthia: Breaking generational trauma means becoming conscious of what has been passed down and deciding what ends with you.

Sometimes we inherit patterns without realizing it—silence, abandonment, unhealthy relationships, emotional unavailability, people-pleasing, fear, or the belief that women must sacrifice themselves in order to be loved. One woman can change generations simply by becoming aware.

She begins asking questions: Why do I respond this way? Why do I keep choosing this? Where did I learn this? Does this belief actually belong to me? Then she begins choosing differently. Breaking generational patterns doesn’t mean blaming the women who came before us. Many of them were surviving with the tools and awareness they had. We can honor their survival while choosing something different for ourselves and the generations coming after us. Sometimes honoring our ancestors means continuing their traditions. Sometimes it means healing what they weren’t able to heal.

Ross: You explore trauma bonds and how they can sometimes feel like soulmates. Why do unhealthy relationships sometimes feel so intense, and how can someone recognize the difference between trauma bonding and genuine love?

Anthia: Intensity can easily be mistaken for intimacy. When someone activates an old emotional wound—especially abandonment, rejection, inconsistency, or the need to be chosen—the emotional pull can feel incredibly powerful. There can be highs and lows, distance and reunion, uncertainty and relief. Because the emotions are so strong, we may interpret the connection as something extraordinary. But intensity doesn’t automatically mean love.

Healthy love doesn’t require you to abandon yourself in order to keep another person. It doesn’t keep you constantly questioning your worth or wondering where you stand. Genuine love allows room for honesty, consistency, respect, accountability, emotional safety, and reciprocity.

One of the most important things I’ve learned is that butterflies aren’t always confirmation. Sometimes they are our nervous system responding to something familiar. Healing teaches us that peace can be passionate too.

Ross: How can a woman begin reclaiming her voice after years of being silenced, overlooked, or conditioned to put everyone else before herself?

Anthia: She can begin with the smallest word: no.

No to what drains her. No to relationships that require her silence. No to shrinking herself so other people can remain comfortable.

Then she can begin saying yes.

Yes to her needs. Yes to rest. Yes to her creativity. Yes to boundaries. Yes to speaking honestly.

Yes to becoming someone she may have been taught was “too much.”

Reclaiming your voice doesn’t mean becoming loud. It means becoming truthful.

For me, writing was part of reclaiming mine. Every page allowed me to give language to things I once carried silently.

There is something powerful about realizing, “I am allowed to tell my own story.”

Ross: What role does creativity play in healing, and why do you believe creativity can help women reconnect with parts of themselves that may have been lost during years of survival?

Anthia: Creativity gives the soul somewhere to speak.

When we spend years surviving, life can become centered around responsibility: taking care of children, working, paying bills, solving problems, and taking care of everyone else’s needs.

We can forget to ask ourselves, “What makes me feel alive?” Creativity brings us back to that question.

Writing, painting, dancing, singing, gardening, designing, cooking, making something with our hands—these things can reconnect us with parts of ourselves that existed before survival became our identity.

My writing helped me turn pain into purpose. The experiences were still real, but they were no longer just things that happened to me. I could create meaning from them.

There is freedom in realizing that you are not only the woman who survived your story.

You are also the woman who gets to create what comes next.

Ross: For the woman who has spent years being strong for everyone else but secretly feels exhausted, lost, or disconnected from herself, what would you want her to hear?

Anthia: I would tell her: You are allowed to put yourself down on your own list of people who deserve your love. You don’t have to earn rest. You don’t have to constantly prove your strength. You don’t have to save everyone. And you don’t have to disappear in order to love other people. Ask yourself who you are underneath all the roles you carry—mother, daughter, partner, caregiver, friend, employee. Who is the woman underneath all of that? Go meet her. She may be tired. She may have dreams you’ve forgotten. She may have things she has wanted to say for years. Listen to her. Your next chapter doesn’t require you to become someone else. Sometimes it begins by remembering the woman who has been there all along.

Ross: Ultimately, when a reader closes The Remembering, what do you hope she remembers about who she is, what she deserves, and who she is becoming?

Anthia: I hope she remembers that she was always worthy. Before the abandonment. Before the heartbreak. Before the mistakes. Before the relationships that made her question herself. Before anyone made her believe she had to earn love. She was worthy. I hope she remembers that healing doesn’t erase her story—it changes her relationship with it.

Most importantly, I hope she understands why I called this book The Remembering. This isn’t about becoming someone completely new.

It’s about remembering the woman underneath the wounds. Remembering her voice. Remembering her power. Remembering her dreams. Remembering that she deserves reciprocal, healthy love. Remembering that she can choose differently. And remembering that she has permission to become everything survival once prevented her from being.

Ross: What is your profession aside from writing?

Anthia: Outside of writing, I have worked in healthcare as a caregiver, CNA, and Home Health Aide for more than two decades. Caring for others has been a significant part of my life and has given me an intimate understanding of vulnerability, compassion, dignity, and the importance of simply being present with another human being.

That work has influenced my writing as well. Whether I’m caring for someone physically or encouraging a woman through my words, compassion remains at the center of what I do. I’m also expanding my work into healing-centered spaces, including breathwork, meditation, and exploring ways to support individuals and families through major life transitions.

Ross: What can readers expect next from you?

Anthia: The Remembering is the beginning. I am continuing to write, and one project especially close to my heart is a children’s book centered around self-love and daily affirmations. I want children to begin learning early what so many adults spend years trying to remember—that they are worthy, lovable, powerful, and enough exactly as they are.

I’m also building Moore Love, an organization rooted in hope, healing, compassion, and community, with a particular heart for women and children while welcoming anyone who resonates with its mission.

My future work will continue connecting the things I care deeply about: writing, healing, self-love, creativity, community, and helping people remember who they are. There are many more books inside of me. The Remembering simply opened the door.

Link To Order Anthia's Book The Remembering

Patrice Griffin Turns Pain Into Purpose: From Survivor to Author and Child Safety Advocate

Ross: What inspired you to create your second book?

Patrice: My second book was inspired by my desire to help protect children through education and open conversations. After sharing my own story in my first book, I realized there was also a need for resources that could help children learn about body safety in a gentle, age-appropriate way. I wanted to create something that could empower both children and parents.

Ross: What made you choose this topic?

Patrice: I chose this topic because child safety and advocacy are deeply personal to me. Many children are never taught about boundaries, safe adults, or how to speak up if something feels wrong. I wanted to create a tool that helps start those conversations early in a way that feels safe, engaging, and empowering instead of fearful.

Ross: How did the release of your first book impact your life and career?

Patrice: Releasing my first book changed my life in many ways. It gave me the courage to use my voice publicly and helped me connect with people who related to my story. It also opened doors for advocacy work, speaking opportunities, and allowed me to turn pain into purpose through Patrice’s Kids.

Ross: How much did the justice and ruling in your case impact your healing?

Patrice: The ruling was meaningful because it validated my truth and reminded me that survivors deserve to be heard. While no court decision can erase trauma, accountability can be an important part of the healing journey. For me, healing is ongoing, but speaking out helped me reclaim my voice and my power.

Ross: What advice would you give to victims who haven’t spoken out about the abuse they experienced?

Patrice: I would tell them that there is no perfect timeline for healing or speaking out. Everyone’s journey is different. Most importantly, what happened to them was not their fault. Whether they choose to speak publicly, privately, or only to someone they trust, their voice matters and they deserve support.

What advice would you give to victims who are having a hard time healing from the abuse they experienced?

Healing is not linear, and it’s okay to have difficult days. Give yourself grace and allow yourself to heal at your own pace. Therapy, support systems, faith, creativity, advocacy, and community can all play a role in healing. Most importantly, do not allow your trauma to define your worth.

What do you want readers’ biggest takeaways to be from your books?

I want readers to walk away feeling empowered, informed, and hopeful. I want survivors to know they are not alone, and I want parents and communities to understand how important it is to create safe spaces for children. My books are about awareness, healing, courage, and protection.

What can your readers expect next from you?

Readers can expect more advocacy work, community initiatives through Patrice’s Kids, and more educational resources centered around child safety, healing, and empowerment. I want to continue creating tools and conversations that make a lasting impact on children and families.