Today I have faced a fear. I went to a writing workshop with real live people. I was afraid that they would find me out to be a fraud or I would it would embarrass me and not share my work.
This was a one-time, three-hour session with about ten people attending. I poet led the group. The subject was short story writing. I cannot remember the last time I sat down intending to write a short story. It was probably during a high school English exam.
The format was simple and clear: we did a few different writing exercises and then after we wrote we could read our work out loud. Hearing the individual writer read their work gave the experience immediacy and intimacy. It was interesting to see what details resonated with me as a listener. Would I have noticed them the same way if I had read them?
They pressured no one to read their work out loud. Having a choice made the space feel safe. I read for two out of the three exercises.
It surprised me how nervous I was reading out loud. I was rusty.
My hands shook, and I consciously tried to keep them under the table at first. There was a rattle in my voice and a nervous energy that I tried to throw into my reading. I was sure that was all the group would focus on. They didn’t seem to notice.
It was encouraging to hear feedback and even laughter at the comedic moments. Taking those hours to focus on writing was overall a joy.
Have you recently faced a fear? Or have you ever took part in a writer’s workshop?