I know, I know.
There are the twelve self-help books waiting to be read. The “52 lists” project. The “100 paintings this winter” agreement. The 5 day clean eating challenge. The “Timeout for Art” plan. The 366 day blog-a-day commitment. What the hell am I doing adding yet another thing to my already too-long list of things to do? Am I trying to disappoint myself?
I would really like to not disappoint myself. I intend to take each commitment seriously, and give it my very best effort.
As for the daily writing, I’d like to try to make each post a good one, worthy of my time and yours. This daily habit has the potential to actually help me grow as a writer…if I work at it, rather than just fill pages with words. With that in mind, I’ve been worrying over subject matter so, when I saw a link to a site that offered – free – thirty days worth of writing prompts, I jumped at it. As an added bonus, the theme is “Creative Fire,” which is another thing I’m trying to cultivate this year. So here I am.
Beginning this 30 Day Journal Project feels daring because…
Write down an achievement you feel proud of:
In order to have (your proud achievement), I had to dare to begin…
Beginning this 30 Day Journal Project feels daring because I don’t know where it will lead. What will it ask me to reveal? How much will I be willing to tell?
I am proud of my “Island Reflections” radio broadcast. I am basically shy. I’m not good at public speaking. I cringe when I hear my voice on the telephone answering machine. And yet…when asked to read my blog posts for our little island radio station, I said yes.
Closed in that room, with the microphone uncomfortably close to my front teeth, with earphones on and all kinds of buttons and dials I don’t understand, I clap my hands to signal the start of each reading. I say, “This is Island Reflections; I’m Cindy Ricksgers.” Then I read from the pages I have printed, trying to put emphasis behind the words and sentences as if I were reading stories to my children, trying not to mis-speak, trying to remember to breath quietly, and in the right places. I do it.
My segment is broadcast five times a day, five days a week. I cringe when I hear it. I still don’t like the sound of my recorded voice. I sometimes stumble over a word, and have to repeat it. Sometimes I speak too long without taking a breath, and then audibly gasp for air. I often wonder if listeners wonder and discuss how very wrapped up I am in my little world, self-indulgently believing others would be interested, too.
Still, I do it.
I know myself, and how unlike me the whole endeavor is, so from the time I said “yes,” I’ve been pleased with myself. For taking the chance. For stretching my boundaries. Just for getting out there.