It’s been three days and my heart is still beating in fireworks. Thursday night I organised an evening of poetry and storytelling where I took the audience on a journey through Australia, Canada and New Zealand with poems and sweet memories bubbling up. I had no idea what to expect. Would people actually be interested in hearing me talk for 45 minutes straight? Would they silently leave after my second poem? Storm out during another awkward love story? Even though I practised in front of the mirror many times, the night was still one big question mark.
Would I say things in the heat of the moment that I would instantly regret? Accidentally swear the entire time? Have a bright red blushing face from start to finish and many hours after? It was the first time I did something like this: an entire evening dedicated to presenting my book Poison Ivy. In this gorgeous Bloom art gallery, where the owners supported me every step along the way. From creating funky flyers to advertising, spreading words dipped in honey and offering me a glass of wine when I arrived one hour before showtime all high on adrenaline and shaking with nerves.
The event would start at 8 PM. There was exactly one person, my best friend who brought her tripod to film the whole thing. Of course we’re in Spain and no one is ever on time, so twenty minutes later there was a shiny crew of beautiful beings ready to absorb the words I would gently feed their ears. My hands were trembling and I was sweating from places I didn’t even know possible. When the owner of the art gallery finished introducing me, I stepped in front of the audience and all nerves flowed out me, making space for fuzzy loving feelings when I saw the smiles, heard the applause and laughter, our energy bouncing off each other.
It was a dream. I don’t know how else to describe this journey of joyfully rolling without stopping from the first poem to the last awkward bow. Of smiles all night and sweet encouragement. People I’ve never met before made me promise them I would never stop writing and sharing my poetry. Complete strangers came over for hugs, telling me how they resonated with my stories, how they found themselves in a poem, how my words brought back memories of long lost dreams.
My heart overflowed, tears welled up, cheeks blushing all the roses in the world. Celebration dinner with friends, more hugs, then rushing home to write late night poems. Words needing to leave my fingers, nibbling on precious hours of sleep. That third book can't wait, I’m riding this wave. A random Thursday night in Valencia as a turning point in my little life: knowing this is what I want to do. Cheers! To more writing, telling stories, reading poems, gathering people and sharing the love.