writing prompts

Way back in the day, when I was at theatre school, *uh huh. I am a failed struggling starving aspiring actor. In my own set of unique dramas. And I went to school for it.

I used to think with horror, but secretly: What if I don't make it. I don't want to be one of those people who goes to theatre school and then becomes a teacher, sheepish about not "making it". And here I get to say, Ah, the arrogance of youth. Because I am that person, and I love it. I am not measured by myself in the inches that are auditions that I've gone on, shows I have landed, rejection letters. And if I am judged by others, I know that rotten headspace that I too once occupied and I can feel the joy of not being there anymore.

I create now for myself. I make cakes, costumes, and drama. I splice other people's words together to (hopefully) make them better without destroying their voice and message. I also string my own words together, mostly as missives but sometimes too as publications. I'm even starting to enjoy that process.

I draw without angst, sing without reservation and dance without shame. (One of those three statements is a lie but *shrug* whatever.)

I parent with a creativity and an openness that I never expected of myself. I suck at it sometimes and I find my way to a quick forgiveness for my pedestrian faults, turning to solutions rather than self retributions.

I was recently asked by a friend to take her writers' workshop. This idea, rather than scaring the bejayzus out of me as it should, has brought me toward the lightness of possibilities. We are writing about family, and trust me, I will need to uncover some serious bravery for this task. But it is already fun because I get that it can be so.

At the same time, it is a task, an exercise. Something I can accomplish by which to hold up and measure my progress in life. And I am so much more primed for the act of taking prompts and playing within the process than I ever was when I was at school. The lessons I learned then I employ fiercely now, and without regret for what might have been, if I had have known then what I know now.

Another friend, one who's writing leaves me crumpled on the floor in awe and laughter and tears, is mounting her own writer's challenge in the form of a weekly writer's challenge. What can I say. I am up for it and ready to play the game.

Play. Another lesson I learned back in the day, another post for another day.

But enough for now, I have homework to complete. Come and join me in this game of words and threes and thrills. For joining me will be celebrating. I am able to do this today because I went to theatre school, back in the day. That fear? of not making it? was unfounded.

This.

This life of joining into creative endeavours without fear and at my own pleasure clearly indicates to me I have made it.