Being seen

I once dreamt that I was lying on a stage, singing. I think I was naked.

I had crept up onto the stage and, thinking I was alone and it was safe, I had laid down at the front of the stage, with a microphone in one hand, and sung.

I don’t know what I sang but I know I sang for quite a while, revelling in hearing my voice loud and clear.

Then I realised, with horror, that I wasn’t alone. An audience was out there in the darkness and they had been watching me the whole time; judging; staring; laughing.

I woke up in a cold sweat, shaken.

I have never forgotten that dream or the pure terror of being seen.

I think writing is like lying on a stage, naked, singing.

When you expose your song, you run the risk of it being judged.

That’s why so many of us are paralysed by the sight of a blank page.


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