And so it begins…

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Before I jump into sharing the things I wrote on the writing retreat I attended, I’d like to tell a little bit about this amazing experience that led me to have the confidence to share.  I learned much about myself during the brief couple of days in June, surrounded by the beauty of a small Michigan lake and like-minded writers.  I learned I have a voice.  I learned I could make people smile with it.  I could show a new side of things to people.  I could move people, and that is a powerful feeling.

Had I felt this before?  In a way.  My fanfiction work gets comments and love.  While I don’t write for that, I can admit it’s a good feeling to read them and know I brought someone to happiness or tears.  It always reminds me of a quote from Jim Valvano (Jimmy V.) – a basketball coach that died of cancer years ago.  During an ESPY’s speech (ESPN Sports excellence awards), he said the following:  Number three is you should have your emotions moved to tears, could be happiness or joy.  He was referring to yourself as a person, but if I can help someone’s emotions be moved, I consider it a success.

Earlier this year, a dear friend, Missy, posted information on Facebook about a writing retreat.  At this point, I had steadily been writing fanfiction for over two years.  I attempted original work in the past, but the fanfiction was my focus.  The writing retreat intrigued me, because I knew at some point if I were ever to take myself seriously – perhaps have others take my writing seriously – I knew I would have to take steps to explore it. 

However, attending something like this would be a huge step out of my comfort zone.  It is quite easy to post stuff anonymously online.  It’s another monster to throw it out into the world to people you know.  And, according to Missy, this would be writing and sharing with the group.  A group of strangers, save Missy, and I don’t do well with strangers. 

I did it though.  It was ‘hella scary’. 

We gathered, the eight of us total (plus one!) at a gorgeous inn on Gun Lake near Shelbyville in Michigan.  I was thrilled to spend time with Missy, who I hadn’t seen in what felt like forever.  My anxiety, however, was through the roof.  One gentleman, seven women of various ages, and another gentleman who didn’t write, but sat in on our gatherings to listen and offer support to his wife. 

I cannot say how blessed I feel to have come together with this group, allow them into my head and heart and to venture into theirs.  Their beautiful words not only inspired me, but also moved me in ways I’ve never been moved.  It’s one thing to read a beautiful passage in a book, but to have someone read aloud something beautiful, intimate, and personal is a whole otherworldly experience.  I can’t believe I was allowed to listen to these amazing wordsmiths, as much as I can’t believe I was able to share my words in turn with them. 

In short, it was one of the most beautiful experiences of my life and I can’t wait to do it again.

On the first day, the facilitator of our group, Kristine, asked us to spend a few moments and write a short piece with the beginning:  I Am Here Because…  It was the first thing we wrote and shared with each other.  I, of course, took it literally, as I take almost everything.  Everyone else wrote these beautifully poetic pieces, but I literally wrote why I came to the retreat.  We didn’t have much time (I think only 15 minutes?) to write the piece, so it’s not refined or anything, but I now share my first writing retreat piece.  Trust me, the rest is better! Enjoy!

I am here because…

I am here because I am scared.  I don’t do this.   I don’t share, but I want to move people with my stories.  I had a vivid imagination as a kid – I constantly made up stories for my cousins, my friends, and myself. Bedtime was my favorite time, because I would lay awake for an hour, tucked in warm blankets, dreaming up stories in my head as I fell asleep.

My parents got many reports about what a good and well-behaved student I was, but that imagination…dot dot dot… accompanied by an eyeroll.

I had an encouraging creative writing teacher in high school who loved my work no matter what it was.  Looking back, she probably should have called for some kind of psychiatric evaluation for some of the things I wrote (I’m looking at you homicidal stuffed bear that came to life) but she always praised me for making her laugh, which was really the only thing I wanted.  For someone to get a good feeling from what I wrote.

Just recently I got into fanfiction, which I know is not considered a serious thing, though there have been successful authors who either started out with this type of writing, or still do it even though they are published.  It took forever for me to share it though, and to this day only one person in my ‘real life’ has ever read what I’ve written.  My husband knows I write, but I’ve never shared with even him.  The friend who has was the one who told me to post it online and the first short story I posted scared the crap out of me.  I was so nervous about exposing myself like that.

Then the comments, likes, and follows poured in.  That has been the encouraging thing to me.  To know that something I wrote – even the small fluff that shouldn’t be considered anything substantial has brought someone to smiles or happy tears means the world to me.  So I am here because… (dot dot dot) I want to expand that.  Expand my scope and my ability and not be scared anymore.