I’m suffering from a case of performance anxiety. A few days ago I did something that was either extremely stupid or rather courageous. There’s a fine line between the two extremes where I’m concerned, and I’m sure I won’t know which end of the spectrum my action was on until I can gauge the outcome. Let’s see what precipitated my angst, shall we?
There was this notice on Facebook:
I read it once. Then a second time. “Huh!” I thought cavalierly. “I can do this.”
So without even an ounce of hesitation I sent an email with a link to one of my blog posts. Then I promptly forgot all about it. Until today when I got this email:
Thank you for your interest in reading at our January Literary Salon! We are happy to host an inclusive and open space for writers and artists at all levels of engagement and topic. I would be happy to add you to our reading list for the 17th. It’s encouraged to read for around ten to fifteen minutes, but you’re welcome to adjust that time to better suit your style, content, or comfort.
There was more to the email, but you get the drift. I’ve gotten the okay to share something I’ve written with a group of strangers. Kind of like I do here every day, except they’re going to expect me to read it aloud. Holy cow. Let the performance anxiety kick in.