I don’t perform out of some pathetic need for approval anymore. I’m performing for the art of it. I am honouring the art of it, trying to let free my ego. It’s a relief, to put myself in relief against the material rather than going at it unaware. I’m so hard on myself! I have had no formal training, have learned everything through trial and error.

I suspect people underestimate me sometimes. I am not unattractive and probably appear younger than my years. Often I encounter peers, give or take ten years, who assume I’m much younger and therefore not their equal. I have to admit I take some pleasure in blowing apart their biases. Case in point; I attended a writing workshop recently and most of the attendees were peers, in the sense that the oldest was probably not much more than 10 years my senior. They wear dowager shawls, bulky sweaters and sport hair-dos from the 70s. They must assume I’m a Gen-Xer, that I am not a contemporary. They read their passages, which are earnest, heartfelt and evocative. I go last, appropriately, since I am the *youngest.* When I finish they let out a collective gasp and one of them blurts, “Now, that’s a story!”

This workshop though, is a wondrous thing, as is Continue reading →