#6 Read Aloud
For most of the hour I was typing and editing the piece, I wasn’t sure whether I would finally do it or back out in the end.
Back in school, I dreaded reading aloud to the class. In some classes, we would go through one-by-one, and each of us would have to read a page or two from the book we were reading. It was simpler in my native German, more challenging in English, and worst in my least favorite subject, French. But the topic or language wasn’t what made it difficult. Reading to others, stumbling over pronunciation here or there, or skipping a line or word or whatever—making mistakes in general—was terrifying. Because it was ‘public’, because the others might laugh and think unfavorably of me because of it. (Whether they actually would was not so relevant.)
But that was just reading something a stranger wrote. The fear then was only on my performance in the moment. What was more terrifying was to read something I wrote, something I created.
Fast forward a few years to about two weeks ago.
By now, I wouldn’t worry so much anymore about reading something from a book to others. Sure, when reading something in English, I would still mispronounce things terribly and my accent doesn’t make it as smooth as I would hope for, but the nervousness or anxiety would be manageable.
Even reading something I just wrote myself might not be as much of a problem.
Except… Except when it’s personal, when it makes me feel vulnerable, when it dives beyond the surface level or professional writing (e.g., scientific publications).
In that case, reading to others is still daunting. I always wondered how published writers can do book readings, why they would do that to themselves.
And yet, about two weeks ago, I did it.
Not on a stage, not to a large crowd, but I did it.
At the end of an online Writing Circle event, organized by the wonderful people at foster.co, I read aloud what I had written during the one-hour writing session.1 It was reasonably personal and deep, enough to scare me to do it. And I only did it because I know it helps to, well, face my fears.
Sure, there were only three listeners.
Sure, it was a Zoom meeting.
Sure, they all live on the other side of the planet.
And sure, they’re a friendly bunch, as well-meaning and supportive as any writer could ever hope for.
Still, such activities fuel my nightmares.
But I did it. And the others reacted more positively than I could ever have dreamed.
Thanks
, Nadia, and for listening, for giving me the space to share and the encouragement to continue.By now I’ve also uploaded it and shared it in another post, even including a recording of myself reading it. Just writing this again made me shiver a little. And I feel the urge to go and at least delete that recording, if not the whole post. But that wouldn’t feel honest to those who’ve already read/hear it, in a way, and not honest to my own approach to all of this, to the goal of this entire project.
Loved this!