I just returned from a writing conference ( I know; doncha feel sorry for me?) in the most picturesque of settings. We spent our days critiquing, revising, networking, sharing, and gathering insider tips about the industry, all with the backdrop of the Pacific Ocean.
It was both massively stimulating and inspiring.
Yet, I couldn't help but feel this almost childlike uncomfortableness. It reminded me of the first day of school, the first day of ANYTHING really.
So many times I sat down and introduced myself, so many times I sat down and shared my art (stories) with such trepid uncertainty. The hours were laced with so much caution, and underlying nervousness. The pattern was the same. We sat down at a table. Someone inevitably would ask who is going first? Cue to the light anxiety following the readings, and then deciding who will give the feedback first. Although we were all older the feelings were so oddly familiar.
It was the same as before. These feelings I felt were exactly the same I felt as a child but now I have learned to cope with them differently. I have more options now. I can stuff them down more efficiently, I can move ahead, and I have more confidence than I did when I was a younger.
Don't get me wrong.It's so empowering to put one's self out there. It's so freeing to share one's art, and process the feedback.
I just marvel at the parallels.
And I have a newfound respect for the kiddos, and what we ask of them.
I still find those "who goes first" situations hard and can totally relate to your post (even without the joy of a writing conference at the beach). But, it's your last line that really gets me thinking about the way we ask kiddos to share their attempts to be writers in the tight confines of the space, genre, and techniques we demand of them!
ReplyDeleteThe last line is gold. It is so important to put ourselves in the experience of young writers so our own inner child has chance to come out and remember the newness of writing moments. You had a lovely view, too. I’m drinking it in vicariously.
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