That moment of vulnerability when you consider, “I think I can do this…” – Aspiring Writer
I wondered where she was yesterday. That writer buried deep inside. The one who’s not afraid to call herself a blogger. She sees life, and she loves it. She crafts stories with her senses that soar through the air, over waves, into hearts. She plays words like music notes – bending, stretching, improvising. As she reads things everywhere, so soothing to the ear are the musings that she gets lost in lyrical bliss. She is fearless.
But she was missing. In her stead, was her timid counterpart. The one who sometimes reads other people’s writing and thinks, “Oh mine is not that good” and sinks a little bit in her seat. She’d remembered for months in advance that March was set to be her most exciting writing event of the year. She’d plan to get started early, teasing ideas and taking pictures. That was the plan. At some point. Kinda, but it didn’t pan out. The timid one said, “Blogger? You hibernate 11 months out of the year.”
Well, that was encouraging.
She zipped through her day, winding in and out of meetings; delving through directives; sorting through situations, solutions and the like. Her clock was ticking though – and she feared she would fail to compose the first entry – Day 1, undoubtedly among the most important.
But that to-do list was so…long. #sigh
Her confidence paled in comparison to that girl; but, she was feisty enough to pen at least a bit of poetry so as not to miss the quintessential event. So she did what she knew. A simple haiku.
And she made it.
Relief resonated through her entire being as she glared at the time stamp eyeing her from the luminescent screen. “I did it!” she thought.
“Yes, you did!” said the tiny voice in her head.
She barely noticed.
And as is customary, she proceeded to visit the permalinks of other practicing writers. Chefs and soothers, professors and movers (of souls, that is). Musicians, (lyrical) magicians, scintillators (my word), and wise old sages – and she was floored.
As she read, something stirred inside.
It was a feeling she hadn’t had since the year before.
At this same event.
With this same meeting of the minds…and then…
The writer who wanted to thrive.
Who could she be?
Well, she is – me.
Honestly, we coexist. What I’m trying to say, is this…
I’ve been a writer as early as I can remember. Loving the love affair with words; but, when I consider all that I’ve written, and read and spoken and said – I’ve never had a linguistic adventure as decadent as this.
Truthfully, I write every…single…day.
I write minute-long motivations that I share frequently on social media. I write memos and letters. I write comments on papers that I grade as a professor. I write for clients and colleagues and classmates and comedy.
I write content for testing materials to help young students learn how to read and write better. I write speeches and presentations for special events, and I even journal to God.
But this – this is something different.
In this arena…I write for…
This – Slice of Life phenomenon – is a most ethereal thing. Here, I am free to write whatever I think or feel with no boundaries or apprehension. I write for pleasure or for passion. For power or for pain. I can be transparent or translucent or transcendent, when I’m lost in the literary genius of my writing peers.
Participating in this event has been the most transformative of my writing career.
I am intrigued by the adeptness of my friends.
I am fascinated by the fervor of my fellow enthusiasts.
I am enamored with the writing excellence and the insistence on meaningful feedback,
and I am eager to return with the anticipation and commitment to learn, to love and to grow.
Here, I write from my heart.
I write what I know.
I write with incessant love-
And I have 29 days to go.
Can’t wait. See you at the finish line.
~Dr. Carla Michelle, #aspiringwriter