I vividly remember those days and the decision I made to finally join a writer's group. The first week I was there I held my prized possession, my newly formed newspaper article, in my hands. All the people in the room were strangers to me. How could I share my work without ridicule?
|Photo by: FeatheredTar, courtesy of Flickr|
Writing wasn't meant to be easy, and sharing our work wasn't meant to be easy.
But if we do it, like I did that day around a room full of strangers, we just might be tempted to begin another piece and yet another.
I received good news that day. But I haven't always been the receiver of glad tidings.
My first works (the ones I did initially the first few years after I decided I wanted to be a writer) were lackluster; some were outright terrible. I made copies of my work, put them in those little paper binders, and passed them out to family. How embarrassing when I look back on them now!
But they were a process of sharing. A process, I am happy to say that has gotten easier over the years.
Can I honestly say that I can now share my work without my stomach rumbling or my hands shaking?
Like the tide that comes in from the ocean, I am still gathering in my courage every time I stand up in front of a group; every time I sign and hand out a published book.
How about you?