Doing a Reading

I’ve been invited to do a reading and I’m freaking the heck out. It is super exciting but also a little scary. I will be standing in front of an audience, reading from something I’ve written. Writing has always felt vulnerable, but this is another level. I’m a teacher, so you’d think I’d be okay in front of an audience, but the nerves are certainly there. Different context, I suppose.

I’m finding, more and  more, writing to be one of the most subjective arts. I feel like I’m getting up there reading words of which every person in the room is capable, but which I’m pretending are significant. I guess that’s it. That feeling of being a fraud that accompanies, I think, most people in most new professions. I’ll probably feel like this every reading.

But let’s look at the bright side, which is always helpful. I’m nervous because I desperately care, and that’s no bad thing. The people I’m reading to are wanting me to do well. And you know what? How exciting is it that I get to read my work to people?

The best author I’ve heard read their own work is Richard Flanagan. Here has a certain pace he keeps, and modulates his voice just enough to draw you in. That’s another thing. I don’t want to rush through just to get it done. I want to enjoy the experience.

Below is a picture of me the last time I read my own work. This is me reading one of Tiny Owl Workshop’s napkin stories. It was great fun.

[image error]

I guess I’m both looking forward to this and dreading it all at once. Dread might be strong. I’m slightly nervous and very excited seems more balanced. But feel I’m living an adventure. Onwards and upwards!