Ace Creed
Ace Creed is a bold new voice in Black queer literature, blending vulnerability, humor, and raw emotional truth to craft stories that heal, confront, and celebrate. His work lives at the intersection of faith, identity, and intimacy—unafraid to step into the silence that often surrounds conversations about sexuality, church culture, and emotional survival. Raised on Sunday sermons and old-school R&B, Ace knows what it means to feel unseen in rooms meant for salvation. His writing is deeply rooted in the belief that love—in all its forms—is holy. Through characters like Dywon, Eli, Nicky, and Devon, he brings to life the complex realities of Black queer men navigating community, trauma, friendship, and tenderness in a world that too often demands silence over truth. His debut novel, Not Another Sunday, isn’t just a love story—it’s a spiritual reckoning. It challenges the reader to sit in the tension between belief and belonging, to examine the spaces we’re told to hide, and to unlearn the idea that love must be earned through perfection. With lyrical dialogue, emotionally charged scenes, and characters that feel both familiar and unforgettable, Ace creates a world where healing is possible, joy is revolutionary, and softness is strength. Ace writes for the ones who were told they were too much. For the ones who flinch at altar calls but still believe in miracles. For those who’ve been waiting for stories that look like theirs. When he’s not writing, Ace is mentoring young creatives, designing characters that feel like family, or somewhere in a farmers market giving judgmental side-eyes to underripe peaches. He believes in storytelling as both resistance and refuge—and he’s just getting started.
My Story
Writer. Witness. Word by word, he tells the truth. I didn’t grow up thinking I’d be a writer. I grew up trying to survive. In a world where Black boys were told to be strong but never soft, where faith was preached louder than love, and where queerness was whispered about like a curse—I learned early how to fold myself in, how to hide behind performance, and how to smile through silence. But silence has a cost. There came a point in my life when the pressure of holding it all in—my questions, my heartbreak, my softness, my truth—nearly broke me. And in the rubble of that moment, all I had left was a pen. I started writing not because I had a plan, but because I had something to say. And I was tired of waiting for permission to say it. I wrote about men who looked like me, talked like me, felt like me. Men who could quote scripture and SZA in the same breath. Men who had complicated relationships with their families, their lovers, and their reflection in the mirror. I wrote about longing—not just for love, but for peace. For freedom. For home. And out of that came Not Another Sunday. It started as a whisper. A “what if.” What if two Black men met in a church but stayed for something deeper? What if healing didn’t come from being fixed—but from being seen? What if softness survived? The book became my offering. My testimony. My love letter to every Black queer person who has ever been made to feel like they had to choose between being loved and being real. But this story isn’t just mine. It belongs to everyone who’s ever sat in the back pew, hoping God still saw them. To everyone who’s ever loved someone silently, or survived a heartbreak no one clapped for. To every person who needed one more story to prove that they mattered. I’m Ace Creed. And I write because someone once told me the truth in a story—and it saved my life. Now I’m passing it forward.