Reading aloud should not have been allowed.

I started writing this blog over ten years ago. I was encouraged by being in a local writers group, though somewhat intimidated by some of the more skilled members who could write superb stuff straight off in our meetings. The idea of the group is to be given a subject, write for an hour, then read it out. I wrote some awful drivel and eventually gave up, but used to pop in now and again to listen to some of the stars.

I then found it more natural to write this blog, at home!

I’m still in the group, I like to know what’s happening and last night went along to what they call a showcase evening. It’s only a small group gathered in a room over a bar reading their latest pieces of work. Overconfidence got the better of me so I went along armed with a recent blog that I thought might go down well.

It looks and sounds fine on the paper and in my head, and I’m not a nervous reader, but on the night it sounded dreadful. Perhaps if someone else had read it for me it might have been better. Or, if I’d taken the opportunity to do my homework and practice reading it. The other writers there were kind about it, but I could tell that my delivery was pretty lame. I think I even muttered something like “ it’s better with pictures” afterwards. The hairs on the back of my neck did nothing.

As for the others, some were not to my own taste, but one by a chap who wrote about hitch hiking in California was read as well as anything on Radio 4, another chap read a brilliant little tale with a twist about shopping trolleys. A tale about theatre land was like doing the ‘knowledge’ with an old London A to Z and had some superb dialogue, and the only woman in last night’s group read two super little pieces with perfect diction, another candidate for a radio reading.

So, what to do? Well, first of all, get back on the horse even though it’s thrown you over a hedge into a pile of sh**. So here I am. Writing about it helps, because in my head it sounds ok. I’ll go again, and next time will practice, read it out loudly at home before I go, make notes on where to add EMPHASIS. Pace myself to avoid stumbling, and just not give up.

I might even read this, then they know what might be called the back story.

How was that?

This sort of illustrates the way I felt inside my head, it is in fact a clay version of one of the
gargoyle sculptures that adorn Gloucester Cathedral.Photographed some years ago at the Mason’s studio.

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