I rise smiling from a wonderful dream and instantly turn to Michelangelo, seeping back into the imagery and sentiment from moments before. We were at a festival, one of those cool, low key festivals with marquees and unknown artists playing great music.
I have hired space in a marquee for my group. Elevating my six-week writing course, I surprise the class with an outdoor immersive experience. They all show up; I hadn’t expected them all to come but they love the course, they are happy with what they are learning – the feedback tells me so.
Another group of five or six arrive, ‘ah James is here and Dalwesh, how nice to meet you, isn’t working in person much nicer than from behind a screen!’ They greet each other fondly as the ladies who arrived early reconfigure the tables. ‘Set it out for the whole group’ I say, noticing most of them are already here ‘just in case’. As they move furniture around I find a pot of tea and other refreshments, several leap up to help me, carrying water, glasses and china teacups. They enjoy the course as much as I do delivering it. They trust and believe the writing course will improve their confidence and ability. I can see already that it will. They’ve come so far. They are dedicated.
Music plays softly in the background, the sun shines through between the ropes and pegs. Confidently I begin my session. Some close their eyes as I speak, some try to take it all in. ‘Let’s set a goal, tell me what you want to achieve and how you’ll think you’ll do it.’ They begin writing. Heads down in serious concentration. I marvel at the sight of them knowing I made this happen.
Whilst they write down their goals and aspirations, I achieve one of my own goals. The decision to run the writing residential pays off and I think of who I am and who I used to be, what writing means to me and how it has transformed my life. I smile; I wake up smiling.
Fem Feelings 