We’ve been doing some DIY recently, trying to sort out issues with rising damp, and through the dust and grime there emerged one day row upon row of gorgeous old bricks. Amazing that something so lovely has been there all along, hidden behind layers of plaster and wood.
It got me thinking about being visible – putting stuff out there for people to see and read. My travel memoir is a work in progress and I’ve noticed that as I tell life stories, I tell the truth about myself. Each layer of plaster comes away (not always painlessly) to reveal another brick – often discoloured, bruised or dented, but always beautiful in some way. Health, grief, love, travel, loss, fear – it’s all there, and it’s all universal, so I suppose it makes perfect sense to share it.
Dust? What dust?
Imposter syndrome and counting numbers are all part of the journey – writing words that want to fly. They may find a home and land safely, or they may fly away. And that’s okay. There’s courage in vulnerability. Beneath the layers of shame and anxiety are lovely old stories that want to be told. Tales that have lain hidden too long.