Yesterday, I went to a writing workshop for the first time. There were 8 people in the group. We had vastly varying degrees of writing experience. For example, I had none, while some of them had already published their works in magazines. Being given just 2 or 5 minutes to freewrite was scary. Desperately grasping for the right words was nerve-racking. Reading what I scribbled down aloud was terrifying. Getting feedback from the group? Mortifying.
Still, it was interesting. Because I had zero time to sit down and think about what to write, the only things I could write about were the topics that had already been gnawing at me. In front of the 7 complete strangers, I wrote about my latest obsessions, dearest memories, biggest fears, and shakiest thoughts. And there’s definitely something real there.
I don’t know where I’m headed. But, I guess I’m finally ready to start writing into the void. More than 140 characters at a time.
Wandering Lights 