Moving forward one step at a time. Sometimes the steps backwards are more than those forward, but, hey, I’m trying.In my quest of forward moving, I decided to go to a Writer’s Club. Something new, yet familiar. I’ll let you in on my visit. Here we go…I’m here. No ones talks to me. No one says hello, or even makes eye contact. Do I leave? Do I stay? “Hey, you are already here”, I tell myself. I sit and wait for whatever is next. Wow, this takes me back to my school days. I feel like I’m in the not-so-popular-table…awkward! Finally, someone is at the podium and is getting this meeting started. She introduces herself as the club’s president. She gives us a “writing exercise”. For 10 minutes write about a “donut”. This is what I write:At the writers club-my first time! People are snotty and to themselves. If they know you, they talk to you, if they don’t, well you just sit in the corner feeling like you are back in school. Funny, did we ever grow up? I know each of these people has a story or a dream (to be a famous writer) but they rather write it on paper than talk. Is that called being an introvert?Assignment: pick a donut from the box being passed around. You can eat it, observe it or throw it away, it doesn’t matter. Just write something about the donut for 10 minutes.Watching people pick their donut was very interesting. Some picked their favorite, others just a prop. The grumpy man sitting in front of me – who by the way didn’t even say hello – decided he didn’t want a donut. Thinking I was helping I said to him, “She said you didn’t have to eat it. You can even throw it away.” He growled at me, “I don’t need a donut! In fact, I have a story why I don’t need a donut!!!” Well, okay then…Times up! Some volunteered to read what they wrote. I might say that there was really creative writing and stories. I enjoyed that. I, for obvious reasons, opted out.The meeting ended, I quickly made my way out. Yeah, I tried…not my thing. But it was interesting.
Love of Writing
Writing is something I have always loved to do. As far as I can remember, the love of pen and paper in all it’s flow and permanence. I remember I wanted to be a teacher when I “grew up”. A desk, books, pen and paper drew me in like a magnet. In a perfect world the “happily ever afters” and the “fulfilled” goals and dreams are subjects movies are famous for. I don’t think you can have a best seller without a happy ending…or can you? I guess it depends on the story.
Back to my reality…
Once upon a time I wrote what I thought was an honest and open letter. I felt that by writing my thoughts it would make it easier to express myself. Lets just say that the outcome was far from what I envisioned. The content and purpose of said letter was twisted and skewed. “It” became a weapon and further muzzled and destroyed “my voice”.
Walking in the valley of the shadow of death, somehow, is helping me find “my voice”. A deep mystery I have yet to understand. And, so the journey continues…one step at a time.
“There is no greater agony then bearing an untold story inside you.” ~Maya Angelou