Be real – Almost An Author

The Absent Author

“You’ve drawn back,” that familiar voice whispered to my heart. I tried to shrug off the nudge. I knew I needed to be transparent with my readers, but it made me uncomfortable, as if naked in a crowd.

One night at writers group, I showed up with several miscellaneous pieces to share. An unfinished article lay at the bottom of the pile. I felt unqualified to write it because I still wrestled with the subject—forgiveness. I certainly didn’t want to read it to my writers group. It scared me to share any of my writing, let alone something that made me vulnerable. So, I read the pieces that cost little and allowed me to keep a safe emotional distance.

I always positioned myself at the table so I could see our leader.

While we shared our work, I watched the nuances of his expressions to get a real feel for his responses. I noted how he measured his words when he commented. As everyone stated what they liked about what I’d read, Jack leaned back, silent, in his chair.

“Jack, you’re awfully quiet.”

“I want to hear Rachael. I want to see Rachael on the page. I want to hear your voice.”

“They’re all me,” I said. But Jack stared stone-faced. “You just want to see me bleed, don’t you?”

“Yeah, you’re right. I do.”

So much for being incognito. All eyes fixed on us. I sighed and pulled the unfinished piece from beneath the pile of papers and read what would become my article entitled Forgive to my writers group.

“There you are,” Jack said. “There’s Rachael.”

A hush fell on the room. Though this took place at a public library, it felt like church.

I finished my article on forgiveness and posted it on my blog. A few days later, I received a message from a young man I’d never met who was attending a Bible conference put on by one of our churches across the country.

“Thanks for this post,” he said. “It’s exactly what I needed to hear. A huge weight lifted off me tonight. I was struggling all week to hear from God concerning a troublesome situation. There have been powerful sermons all week that were very applicable to my life, but I needed clear direction from God. Your blog post on forgiveness cut to the heart of the matter. I haven’t been able to leave any of the services with peace, but now I can. Thanks.”

Sometimes I fall short of the tall order of vulnerability in my writing, but I’m no longer resistant. My new writing mentor, Cec Murphe y , appears determined to draw me into the startling light, and that’s a good thing. “Where’s Rachael in this piece?” he says. Yes, a bared soul can touch hearts in ways polished prose and hard facts alone cannot.

Oh, how rich the reward when we truly give of ourselves to serve others.

Rachael M. Colby has a heart for reconciliation and a passion to uplift those who serve in tough places. She writes to connect cultures’ questions with Christianity’s answers, inspire faith, and motivate.

Rachael’s work has appeared in Chicken Soup for the Soul, the Blue Ridge Mountains Christian Writers Conference Blog, online publications, compilation books, and the Oak Ridger newspaper.

This Jamaican-born multi-genre award-winning writer, wife, and mom resides in Cape Cod, Massachusetts. She runs on chocolate and a lotta “Help me, Jesus.”

Website: TattooItOnYourHeart.com
Twitter: @RachaelColby7
Facebook: Rachael M Colby

Win Friends, Impress People, Choke Up

In this space before, I have mentioned the importance of meeting new people and developing new relationships at writers conferences. Where else can you find people like you—grownups who listen to the voices in their heads, write down what they say, and then try to publish it? You want to get to know these people, right? Or should that be write?

First impressions are important but are seldom 100% accurate. After all, many of us try to “put on the dog” to impress people at these events. Trust me, that doesn’t work.

Several years ago, I attended a “Meet and Greet” at a conference. There were many friends in attendance, as well as guest speakers, editors, and faculty members. Definitely a place to put your best foot forward, and definitely not a place to embarrass yourself.

Well, I am always going to be . . . me.

The event was held in a huge meeting room. One side featured tables and couches for “fellowship,” with the bookstore on the other side. A snack table full of finger foods and other goodies was located in the middle.

I first looked for bargains at the book tables, as my “mad book money” was extremely limited. One book that looked interesting was only $3—practically the only thing in my price range. The author had a box on his table for a giveaway of the book, so I entered my name, although, in these situations, I either (1) don’t win anything or (2) win something but I’m in the hallway talking and miss my name being called. I’m talented like that.

I made my way to the “fellowship” area and divided my time between groups of friends and editors and the publishers I wanted to impress. I looked over to the bookstore area and noticed people at the table with the book I wanted, so I figured I had better “seize the day” and push people out of the way to get my bargain. Not really, but, hey, I needed to get my book. I passed the snack table on my way and had to stop.

I’ve never been able to walk by a snack table and not partake of the treats. I scooped some peanuts onto one of the tiny plates and started munching as someone got on the P.A. system to announce the winner of the book giveaway. As a name was drawn, I started choking on a peanut.

I was hacking and coughing so hard a fellow nearby asked if I needed the Heimlich. I waved him off, right at the moment the winner was announced.

“Carlton Hughes!” I had finally won something, was finally present to hear my name—while I was coughing up a lung.

I walked (and hacked) to the makeshift stage to get my book and returned to the garbage can near the snack table, thinking that lung might come up any time. Someone told the book’s author I was a college professor, which was also the author’s profession, so he came over to ask numerous questions about my work. The conversation went something like this:

Him: “What courses do you teach?”

Me: “(Cough) Communications (Hack) and journalism.”

Him: “How long have you been teaching?”

Me: “(Hack) Over (Cough) 20 (Hack) years.”

Somehow, I don’t think I impressed him.

Some wise advice I learned the hard way: in writing or at writers conferences, don’t work so hard to impress others. Be yourself, have fun, and avoid the peanuts.

And you must be present to win.