I went to a writer's roundtable last night that is a continuing ed. class at the local college. There were 10 middle aged women there - surprise. Several of them have published and they were all quite interesting. I felt like the plain jane of the group. We took turns introducing each other and the instructor talked about the course. We are using a great book, "The Right To Write," the author's name escapes me right now but she has also written a book, "The Artist's Way," which is quite wonderful so I know I will like this one. Before the night was over we did a free writing exercise, there were 10 words on the board and you could pick one or 10 to write about. I tried "love" but that was awful so I settled on "chocolate" a subject all women can write about with ease.
The instructor then asked us to share what we had written or we could pass. I passed. I don't have writer's block, I have reader's block. I could not read what I had written. It was embarassing but fortunately one other person passed so I didn't feel quite so odd. I am freaked out about sharing my writing with anyone else, at least out loud. Everyone's words sounded so good, and eloquent, and wonderful. I was worried about being criticized but the truth is I was my own worst critic. Paralysis!
I don't know what to do about this exactly. I feel very emotional about it and I think that's odd because I'm not sure why. Right now I think it would be easier to bungee jump and I hate heights. I have never been a wall flower, no friend would describe me as shy or unassuming. I have spoken in public without reservation. So what is this about?
I am looking forward to the class because the women in it are interesting and I think I will learn a lot. The instructor is quite nice and talented too. I just feel like I'm out of my league. Perhaps it is better to continue blogging to my own little circle of friends and acquaintances and not step off this diving board yet. It's certainly safer. I think it might be easier to take my clothes off in public than to expose myself to public scrutiny in this arena - how odd is that. It is interesting to me that my anxiety is so high about this considering that I am a woman who claims never to feel great anxiety about much of anything. I pride myself on being able to negotiate most situations with relative ease. And boom - I feel like a little kid afraid to go to sleep because the witch might be waiting for me. If I were Harry Potter this would be a good time to summon a patronus to ward off the dementors.
The instructor then asked us to share what we had written or we could pass. I passed. I don't have writer's block, I have reader's block. I could not read what I had written. It was embarassing but fortunately one other person passed so I didn't feel quite so odd. I am freaked out about sharing my writing with anyone else, at least out loud. Everyone's words sounded so good, and eloquent, and wonderful. I was worried about being criticized but the truth is I was my own worst critic. Paralysis!
I don't know what to do about this exactly. I feel very emotional about it and I think that's odd because I'm not sure why. Right now I think it would be easier to bungee jump and I hate heights. I have never been a wall flower, no friend would describe me as shy or unassuming. I have spoken in public without reservation. So what is this about?
I am looking forward to the class because the women in it are interesting and I think I will learn a lot. The instructor is quite nice and talented too. I just feel like I'm out of my league. Perhaps it is better to continue blogging to my own little circle of friends and acquaintances and not step off this diving board yet. It's certainly safer. I think it might be easier to take my clothes off in public than to expose myself to public scrutiny in this arena - how odd is that. It is interesting to me that my anxiety is so high about this considering that I am a woman who claims never to feel great anxiety about much of anything. I pride myself on being able to negotiate most situations with relative ease. And boom - I feel like a little kid afraid to go to sleep because the witch might be waiting for me. If I were Harry Potter this would be a good time to summon a patronus to ward off the dementors.
Lacking a patronus and not really facing any dementors except of my own making I am left to try and figure out a way to go back to class on Monday and be able to read. We have already been told we will be doing so (you can pass of course) and I'm not sure I can pass again without feeling totally stupider than I already feel. I think I understand now what it must be like for an actor to take to the stage, or an artist to have a show, or a musician to sit on the stage as the lights come up on a recital. You hear actors talk about their own stage fright - now I understand. I am afraid.
