It took me years before I was even comfortable taking my clothes off in front of my lover. The idea of doing it in front of strangers never crossed my mind.
Oh I am not a stripper, nor have I ever taken my clothes off in front of a crowd. I’m much too private a person.
I am a writer. One who opens her heart and whispers words all over the pages. One who lets her voice move you through the deep tunnels leading into her soul to share vulnerable, raw thoughts and feelings that can only be written.
I’ve been told by many that all you have to do is put your words down on the paper. How hard could that be?
It’s not as easy as one may think.
Writing is very much like a strip tease act. If I were to walk out on a stage knowing what was going to happen next, I would start out with as much clothing on as possible. I might have even added a scarf, some leggings (although I have never worn any before), a hat and whatever else I could fit into just to drag the dance out.
One may ask, Why?
Because it’s frightening to open your heart for others to pass judgment. Surrendering to the stares, reading the comments and listening to words that may hurt far deeper than anyone could imagine and just might stop a new writer dead in her dance.
Would they like the story or hate it? Would they think my writing was good or sucked? Those are the thoughts I had no control over except to let it go, knowing that I wrote honestly from a heart centered space and in a manner that was there to serve.
Removing layer after layer to reveal a deeper level of understanding about myself left me in a vulnerable place both mentally and emotionally.
How does one show the world their innermost unexposed feelings without taking it personally?
It’s the same with writing. When we sit down at our desk or favorite chair to write, we put as many words on the page as possible. Those in the industry refer to it as vomiting onto the page, to get as much out without thinking or self editing.
We do this on and off the stage when we let the negative self talk take over.
Letting the words speak for themselves was one thing, but when I was delicately advised to show my real emotions, I froze up. Succumbing to the release of the flowing tears, I understood that I was approaching it from afar. Like a dancer on stage just out of reach.
I was out of touch with myself, my emotions and the reality of all I could be.
Then I laughed and thought, how is that for real emotions.
Trusting myself enough to freely let go of the supposed control I thought I had, was when I evolved from a virgin on the stage to the experienced tease of storytelling.
As with the dance, you can try and move like another, but it’s when you get into your own flow, get out of your own way, that the dance becomes as beautiful as the words of a poem.
It’s a natural process to want to take your clothes off, at least to go to bed. It’s not as natural to want to write about your vulnerabilities, your secrets and your fears.
Nurturing our passion for writing takes practice, patience and persistence as you pull from your emotional wellspring.
If no one ever sees your writing or the dance in the darkness of your soul, please give it a try anyway.
Author: Lee Lomas