On Tuesday, I left my child (as pictured above) in my husband’s hands and walked to my very first writing workshop. I won’t lie; I was grinning during that five minute walk down the hill and across the road. I wasn’t nervous about writer’s block, meeting new people, or that I left a very messy baby with my husband for his first solo parenting gig. I was just excited to be walking to a writing workshop on a crisp fall evening.
The hostess of the workshop is just…lovely — a perfect blend of humor and kindness. I felt immediately warm and welcome upon meeting her. She seems like the kind of person you can have a cup of tea with and laugh about anything.
The other writers in the workshop are so, so, so talented. The pieces they came up with in response to prompts were just amazing — detailed, mysterious, tender. My work sounded so different. So light and silly. But that is me. That is my voice. I doubt it will change much.
Writing and sharing work in a comfy sitting room, with tea, prompts, and talented writers, with no interruptions for 2.5 hours…it is heaven. It is luxurious — reading during a rainstorm, wrapped in a soft, worn shawl luxury.
And all of that serene, comfy, luxury walked home from the workshop with me. I opened the front door to hear a welcoming whisper from my husband, “Take off your shoes and tell me all about it!” Our baby had been sleeping for an hour; the house was tidied up; and the dishwasher was running. My husband and I swapped stories about our evening in the quiet of our living room.