Today I did something I haven’t in the longest time: I shared my work in progress with a few close friends.
You may be saying: “duh, that’s what it means to be a writer <insert eye roll>” But writing isn’t simply work for me (though it is that too!); it’s in the fabric of my DNA; it’s the only thing I have ever done consistently even when I didn’t when my babies were teeny and my brain had turned to mush. So giving my work to others, to ingest and absorb makes me feel incredibly vulnerable. But I’m also hella proud to have something to share after the last few intense years (2020 taking all the cake and custard). Being a writer is truly everything and more.
Of course I am as yet to hear the verdict, but just getting this far on the journey, especially in overcoming my preemptive protective ploys just in case, is worth celebrating. So come what may of this work, I know I am opening myself back up again and to me, that means I already succeeded in something crucial.
So be encouraged: dive right in and know this is how we make our stories better.
– E x