I’ve written in some form my entire career in magazine publishing, brand development and ideation. Yet, as I embark on a new literary odyssey, I realize that my public words have supported other people’s dreams. It’s different when the words are your own, and you are the one standing naked before the crowd.
Writing my first novel has evoked a kaleidoscope of emotions. Each morning the dial spins and a new constellation of moods appear. I don’t know if I’ll spend the day amazed by my own perceived brilliance or angrily resenting the blinking cursor for its taunting lack of movement. Neither is real. The only truth I’ve found is that writing is not for sissies.
I see the world in story – it teaches me, it fascinates me, it organizes me. It illuminates messages, and it soothes shadowed places; it can be a gentle nudge or a barking realization. Story gives life to my life.
I wanted to be a singer, a big-voiced soul sister belting out my stories, but I can’t carry a tune. I wanted to be a dancer with crafty cat-moves, but at 40 the tour bus has left the lot. I arrived at writing like an ungrateful kid wanting cupcakes instead of spelt muffins. But as my moon-walk rusts, neglected in the closet, I still have the need to share.
The stories are stockpiling as I am running out of internal storage, and I realize that with a little honey, spelt muffins are actually quite tasty. So this blog is for asking the questions that need to be asked, and playing where I have not yet played; it is for exploring the stories I’ve been carrying, and the ones we will gather along the way. They’re meant to be shared. I hope you’ll join in the conversation.
Kassie Benham Integral Coach, Writer, Cultural Creative