In my previous post I told you about the workshop. Here I will tell you how it felt to be there.
It was cold and rainy that day. I didn’t mind. The door was locked when I got there. That’s okay, they’ll open it soon, and they did. I have a partial hearing loss and had to change my seat so I could hear. That’s okay. And when it was over and I went out to my car, I had a parking ticket and I just laughed.
Because of what it felt like to be brave enough to be there. To finally be where I belonged and to be wide open to the truth of it.
Years ago I signed up for an acting workshop that I wanted to go to so much but when the day came, I didn’t go. I told myself it was stupid — what was I going to do, move to New York, become an actor? That’s dumb. I did not even know it was fear that stopped me.
Because I was afraid — in my soul — I was afraid. I must have learned to be afraid to be who I am.
I have been very brave in my life. I have faced down dangerous people twice my size. I have been the one others hide behind, and I am only 5’4”.
But I never dared to do this. To be a writer, say it out loud, spend my days doing the thing I wanted more than anything and that I might just have a knack for. To lay my soul at the feet of someone who is already doing what I wish I had started years ago and say please tell me what you know.
To sit in a group of people and hear myself say, “I am writing a novel,” and no longer hear that voice that says, “Sure you are.”
Going to this class was another step, as is this blog, to getting myself to believe myself when I say I am a writer. And I always have been.
Since I have made writing my daily work, I have forgotten to be afraid.
© Margaret Grant and magoffleash, 2012-2013. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited.