In an humble attempt to nurture my storytelling skills and meeting like-minded people, I attended my first in-person writers’ meetup. The event began at 20:15, held at an easily accessible venue. My initial reaction was: why so late? That was quickly followed by an anxious thought: would I even stay awake, given that I am an early bird? Also, the event was in Dutch, while I do speak Dutch, this was more of a literary event, would I be able to follow everything? Nevertheless, curiosity prevailed and I went.
A few days earlier, I had fallen ill, but today, I am visibly better. I still have a sporadic cough and a bit of residual tiredness, but I pushed myself and arrived early even. Surprisingly, I did not feel tired *at all*. I certainly was shy and slightly uncomfortable, but tiredness was nowhere to be found. Lively exchanges and meeting published authors made it all so interesting that whatever energy I had left came alive. In the first hour, we all introduced ourselves, and in the remaining time, we were writing about how last year was for us and/or what we have learned about writing in the last year.
I was not prepared to write at all, I did not bring any pen and paper, or a laptop. The sharp woman sitting next to me, opened up her notebook, and generously took out 5-6 pages for me and gave me a pen. And the words began to flow. I slipped into a writing trance, scribbling out memories of my many conversations with an ex-monk that I came across in the Netherlands. Whenever those conversations turned to the idea of writing, I’d be filled with energy, and I would end up taking long walks. This, of course, was about the idea of writing.
Regarding the actual act of writing and completing a piece, I still do not feel ready. I am researching. About the century that I want to write about. I am still watching the writing courses from BBC. Or maybe I am just procrastinating….
Anyhow, I ended up writing a page and a half. In English. That is another odd thing. My native language is Turkish. And yet, maybe because my memories with him were in English, or because I studied/worked in English for over 10 years, I hear myself in English…
We were six people in the room. Everyone else wrote in Dutch (not unexpectedly) and read their pieces out loud, with confidence. After each piece, quick comments were made.
When it was my turn, I chickened out. I wrote a personal piece and sharing it with a group of people – that I just met – was quite an uncomfortable idea. Luckily, they were quite understanding and did not really insist.
Following that, it was time to leave. Around 22:00.
I arrived home, removed my makeup, and tidied up the kitchen. Now, nearing midnight, I find myself writing this blog while listening to Je te laisserai des mots.
I am still not tired. Rather, hopeful…and if I dare say, happy.