Today I did something that felt like a step.
I went to a creative writing workshop at a local arts non-profit. We wrote poetry in a light, airy room, full of windows and echoes. And while I didn’t get up to share any of my stanzas, I experienced the thrill of liking something I wrote because I made important connections I haven’t been able to make on my own, here in the comfort of my bedroom.
I wrote something after feeling stagnant — after feeling like too much of a fraud, saying I want to commit to this whole writing thing, even though I’ve never been published or even submitted something for a contest. I haven’t even written a blog post here in 10 days, an act that has interrupted my two-posts-a-week streak and left me feeling guilty.
And I have to say it was thrilling. We wrote an ode and a villanelle, two forms I’ve never written before. Even though I have never called myself a poet, today made me see that it could be possible — that I’ve been closing a door that I shouldn’t have been closing.
The theme was Passion and Obsession. I wrote “An Ode to Movie Night” and a poem about making lists that doesn’t have a name yet. Both are important to me, and they would not be here if I had chosen to sleep in this morning instead.
So it felt like a step.
I want to go again. And maybe next time I’ll share what I wrote.
It’s easy to hide behind this blog. Sometimes it feels like an easy replacement for sharing the really gritty things. That is and isn’t true at the same time. But it doesn’t take the place of reading a poem out loud to a room full of equals — those who also take this seriously and will soak up your every word, dissecting it and finding meaning.
But just going — attending — felt like a step.
And chances are, if it feels like a step, that means it was a step. So that is a good day in my book.
Photo by Kaboompics.com