Another brilliant piece from a GUNNAS WRITING MASTERCLASS WRITER
Feeling the pressure of the PHD’s, the fascinating jobs and the weight of life stories. Do I have a story to tell? Yes. Will anyone read it or give a shit? Am I after validation? Do I want to validate?
I am learning bit by bit to value my own voice. It is mine. To get out of my own way and let her rip. Evening writing that sentence brings a fissure of terror. Or is that excitement I feel? To let go and purge.
If I am honest and show you my own vulnerability will that be helpful to you?
Who was I before life events overshadowed me? Layer upon layer of creative adjustments picked up and worn as armour to protect myself.
I peel back the year’s looking for the seedling of early life when I was shiny and new.
I wrote this as my last piece this afternoon at your course:-
In retrospect I have my place at the table. My words or delivery there of have their own unique flavour and tempo. I’m running out of excuses and the time is now. Sh..!
As Dev said:- words, sentences, story. Putting one foot in front of the other or in this case one key stroke at a time. Relax and revel in the process. Sit in the uncertainty and do the bloody thing anyway.
The library is awash in words and books. Story upon story. Moments in time are there for the taking and just maybe you’ll be interested in mine.
It may strike a chord. Speak to you and say, I understand.