Who Did I Think I Was?
I just showed up, with my briefcase and drinking a cup of Latte, as if I knew what I was doing and actually belonged here. Who did I think I was? I made a nervous comment about the first day of eighth grade in a new school and took a seat. I didn’t know who the group leader was, if there was such a person. Four or five of the people obviously knew each other and were talking quietly. One looked over and greeted me with a smile and a name. There were two other newbies, they seemed even more nervous than me. They didn’t make eye contact.
I had come to this writer’s meeting to find out if I could actually write or learn to write or if I had a story to tell. To find out if the story that was rattling around in my head was worth the effort. What should I do first? Confirm my version of some truth or learn skills? Probably both.
The leader (there was one) handed out a list of sentence fragments and said pick one and begin writing. We free wrote for a while, and then read out loud. Hell, I failed English once in high school and could never appreciate poetry. Who was I to critique their work? When do you use who or whom?
My turn to read. Just dive right in, show no fear, or just stupid? I had selected one of the prompts and put it into my story. Just a rambling thought, maybe it belongs, maybe not. Not important. Just think on paper. Oh shit, my handwriting sucks and I can’t read my own work.
I don’t remember their comments. I was reading and they were listening. It seemed a bit ludicrous, almost surreal – but not quite.
Then they read a previously prepared piece. There was thought and purpose on the pages; they obviously put considerable thought and effort into them. And had built upon previous experiences and work. Most of it was quite good, but then who am I to judge? I am searching for my own voice or message. Validation. Was I a hobbyist at a professional meeting or a monkey in blue jeans trying to fit in?
The most outrageous part was next; I read a piece that I had with me. I told them I was working on a novel. Explain, give meaning to what I was doing. Like I was someone important, or had paid my dues. What balls.
I’ll know soon enough. I’ll go back Thursday with these words. Thank god for spell checker.
Copyright © 2004
Last modified February 01, 2004
