Standing Out in the Open

I feel as if I've been hiding under a rock for years, and now the real me wants to stand up. There's a few creaks in the joints as I unfold, but I do it anyway because there's no other way to be right now.

I've floundered for the last few years... no, I take that back. I've been meandering what could look like aimlessly all my life doing what others wanted me to do when in actuality it was me all along who was making those decisions and walking those paths. Now, those paths have led me to here. I'm standing, creaks in the background fading slowly as I turn my head this way and that. Where am I and where am I going next?

I'm going where I'm visible, where my words can be read, and my voice heard. I know better what it is I want to say and how I want to say it. I want to use my words concisely, where every single one of them matters.

I've been consulting with writers, helping them perfect their manuscripts, write their manuscripts, and conceive of ideas that will eventually land in their manuscripts. We've been discussing publishing options -- agents, large publishing houses, self-publishing. It all boils down to what it is they want. What do they want to say and how do they want to say it? Isn't that what we do all the time?

I've been editing, proofreading, and reviewing other writers' manuscripts, and when I sit down with them to discuss my views about it, I find that the passion that rises up in my throat and bubbles out in expressions of love for words has been well hidden for too long.

I love words. I love words that work well together. I love how words feel in my mouth as I speak them. I love the sound of efficacy. I say it several times a day because it feels good. I named my daughter a name I loved to say. I spelled it the way I wanted it to look. I still love how it feels rolling off my tongue.

That's why I wanted to start this blog. I've created a business using words to help people communicate better in their own writings. I love to see the words on their pages and to hear them read in the workshops. They create worlds with those words. I shut my eyes, and I'm in 1850 or 2012. I'm seeing a handmaiden on fire or a junkyard at a marina. I can travel the world in seconds. I can be transported through time in an eye blink.

When I type my own stories I'm not in the chair with my hands on my laptop. I'm in a B & B in Vermont drinking shots of tequila with 60-plus-year-old women who remember Woodstock, mud, and Janis. One of them still wears tie-dyed bikini panties with a green heart on the ass.

I've got more workshops coming up as these that I'm facilitating now are winding down. Some of the participants are taking the next course, and there are others who are stepping forward for the first time. So, the Beehive Writer's Studio is up and running, and I can't wait to see where I'll be transported next.