Day 7: Zomg I'm a Writer!

I had the BEST nights sleep for ages last night. One of those proper deep unwakable (is that a word?) sleeps where not even dreams can get a foothold.

Yesterday was so full of different exhausting emotions.  I was excited in the morning at having a focus - I was going to tame the wild opening chapter of my book.  It started well.  Add a word here, change a word there, rip out full sentences and then carefully reconstruct them. Then I hit a... I want to say wall, but that's not the best way to describe it. I didn't stop.  I knew what I wanted to write but making it have any sort of sense and fit into the chapter was hard. Really hard. Like brain draining, mentally exhausting hard. I toiled with it throughout lunch and into the afternoon, finally getting to a point where I felt comfortable to share it with the group.

Ah man!

I'd not really thought about the evening activity of reading.  Reading my work.  Reading my work to people.  Reading my work to people who would be focussed on me, listening. Oh no! They'd be listening. There would be nowhere to hide. They'd all be nice about it, because they are lovely supportive people.  But would they like it?

Excitement turned to intense concentration, now became dread and fear. I kept telling myself that I was being silly. That I'd spoken in front of groups before. In fact I'd spoken to this group, sharing stories and experiences.  But never this. Never about my science fiction fantasy world that I had developed with my best mate into something that was now deeply personal and enjoyable for me.

It was like letting people into the inner workings of my head. Those of you who know me, know that it's difficult for me to let people into anything I consider truly personal. Whether that's my home, true feelings or emotions. Instead I cover things over with sarcasm, jokes, stories about others - always having an escape route. Some people think they know me (I guess we can all relate to this in some way). They'll read the sentence above and think "I've been to matt's home, I've had him tell me personal things, and I've seen his true emotions". But like most people, I only ever show the outer layer of these things. Maybe giving a glimpse, sometimes giving away more then I intended, but never revealing all. Even this blog (namely this post) where I'm probably being more opening then I normally would, there are still thoughts and experiences I've had during the day that will remain private. I think that's good. I like the phrase "my life is an open book, you read it". But this retreat has made me realise that even the best books go through many drafts, edits and thought before the final version is ready for reading.

But with reading tonight, it was all or nothing. Yes there are bits that I edited, removed, changed and rewrote. But this was more then people reading something I had written. This was me reading to them. It really did feel like I was bearing my soul and putting myself out there; vulnerable.

So I spent the afternoon practising, more rewriting, more practicing.   By dinner I was as ready as I felt I could be. I was going to do this. I needed to do this. One of the reasons for this sabbatical was so I could expand my comfort zone, try new things and feel more comfortable with myself.

I'd had a glass of wine, but when I started to speak my throat felt so dry. I tried to speak slowly, clearly, putting emphasis where it was needed. Just like reading a story, because after all that's exactly what it was. In my head it sounded like I was merging sentences into one, I stuttered over words and phrases.  I even started giving one of the inconsequential characters a Forest twang when he spoke.  Would my audience appreciate or even understand the rolling R's and "Ooo er's"?

I got to the end and risked looking up. I was presented by smiles. Genuine smiles. It's all a bit of a blur, but I think the first words were "I want to hear more!" Followed quickly by a "I want to find it in my bookshop!".  I love these ladies!  April, who had already read a draft and given me so much confidence, wasn't at the session because she wasn't feeling well. I thought, well at least if no-one else gets it I know she will, and her absence had given me pause. But the comments were so nice. And not nice supportive (although they were), but they got it. They understood and grasped the world I'd created, and they had become immersed in it. Picturing it, seeing it in their minds eye.  The feedback was constructive, not just "I loved it" and move on.  They identified a gap in the chapter and without telling me what I should do, helped guide me because they were intrigued, not because it was bad. "I want to know more about..." Was the phrase.

I can't begin to explain the relief. I'm not even sure if that's the right word. One thing people do know about me is I need acknowledgment.  Not praise, not rewards, but just simple acknowledgment that I have worked hard at something and that they appreciate it, even if they don't agree or think its bad. Tonight, maybe without realising it, this group who at the start of the week had been complete strangers, acknowledged and appreciated something I'd been working on in various forms for nearly a decade. And this is as much an appreciation for my buddy Tris, so I hope you get a chance to read this matey, and that I've done it justice enough so you can feel the powerful sense of warmth that I'm feeling. If not, when I get home we'll sit down with a pint (or several) and I'll try to relive it for you.  This story is as much yours as it is mine mate, and the characters brought to life through your inspiration.

*wipes a tear from his eye

Er... Do I tell you about the swarm of bees, or how the staff are joking that they might have to ban me from the Ranch because I've brought the British weather with me?  At least I hope it's a joke!

Nah, maybe I'll save that until tomorrow and instead get down to some writing. Cos that's what I do you know? I'm a writer :)