Let me say first – I absolutely adore spending my Sunday afternoons at Fiddler’s Hearth for The Hearthside Readers and Writers Series. I only wish that the Series took place every Sunday, rather than the third Sunday of every month.
Yesterday, I took a leap.
When Clayton introduced me as “a poet who is always a pleasure,” I swelled with the usual vein of recognition and excitement to be a part of this. . .well, family. . .and, this time, felt the twinge of nervous anticipation.
I was going to read a sort of fiction.
Th-is hybrid of mine. . . I’m gonna let it shine. . .
[insert some creepy Stephen King ism here?]
I approached the front, skin shaking, with these printed copies in my hands:
“Unlike This Bed of Soft Tendrils” (on other blog)
“‘And in the Morning, There is Wind.’”
“She dreamt best with her pillow turned inside-out, the forced white moon.”
“Then the woman says to the [GIRL], ‘You’re next,’ when the script says [THERAPIST].”
“Read This Once You Need to Know More About the [GIRL].”
An Untitled Piece, as of yet (not posted here yet)
Let’s just say…I fell in love with my characters in the moment that I read the pieces of story out loud. Something about all the pieces flowed together – surely in a way I understood better than my listeners, since I started filing in more blanks – just worked for me…
I have a feeling that something beautiful is going to happen with all this, as October and November progress.