After starting this blog, I realised I need to improve my writing. I have always felt that my writing lacks a certain oomph.
Last month, I spotted this on Facebook:-
What captured my attention - emerging or aspiring women writers!
Should I try it out? I hesitated. A little voice spoke to me inside my head, give it a shot, what do you have to lose? The most they would not select you as a participant.
Fearing that I may change my mind, I hurriedly copied and edited a few articles that I had earlier wrote on this blog and tried my luck. After submitting, anxiety began to creep in. What did I do? Once again the little voice said, never mind, it is done. Don’t worry about it.
Last day for submission was on the 2nd October 2019, it would also be the day of the decision. I submitted on the 1st October 2019.
The next day, I received an e-mail with the heading "[VOICES 2019] CONGRATS ! You have been selected". My heart was racing as I read the email. Joy turned to dread and doubt. What have I done? Am I really going?
Setting aside my worries, I made plans to attend the workshop.
On the day of the workshop, 16 participants from various age, background, ethnicity, religion, shape and size attended. Strangers, meeting for the first time.
Many of us were curious about the topics that will be covered during the workshop. We didn’t have a clue.
On the first day, we found out we would do monologues of our own story. The jugular vein of our pain. All real, nothing fictional. On one hand, I was happy as I felt this was what I needed to improve my writing. However, part of me still hesitated as sharing personal stories in front of strangers can be intimidating.
A safe space was created during the workshop. No judgement, no criticism and no sharing of other people’s story beyond the workshop. There was no male bashing, just real women issues that were highlighted.
From being strangers at the workshop, we became friends by supporting each other, telling our unique experiences. Through laughter and tears, as a group we learn from each other.
Whether or not I get selected, it doesn’t matter. I will be at Georgetown Literary Festival on the 23rd November 2019 to give support to my fellow participants who challenged themselves and had the courage to tell and share their personal stories.
I saw this quote which sums up the way I felt at the end of the workshop:-
“Strong women aren’t simply born. We are forged through the challenges of life. With each challenge we grow mentally and emotionally. We move forward with our head held high and a strength that can not be denied. A woman who’s been through the storm and survived. We are warriors.” -Author unknown
Popular posts from this blog
The birth of Patrick changed my marriage life from the two of us to the three of us, a family. We were excited, happy, worried followed by all kind of emotions for our baby son. So many things to learn, to experience. Breastfeeding, constant thoughts on our baby's well being especially when his jaundice appeared to rise during his first month. The lacking of sleep. There were moments I observed his breathing while he slept. We were amazed by every new mannerisms that Patrick displayed. We were so charmed when he first smiled to us. I would observed how gently my husband would treat Patrick and how Patrick would looked up to him, listening to his every word. Mummy supporting and loving baby We were enjoying ourselves as new parents until something happened in the middle of November 2017 that changed our lives forever. "There is something not right with his stools." My sister in law remarked to me while I tiredly changed Patrick's diapers. Menta
I have been encouraged by Cordelia Lee to explore my creative side, she has inspired me to use poetry as a form of self-expression. I find that poetry allows me to express myself in a different way. Though I have to admit, it is still a struggle for me to find the words to express myself. Recently, I was moved for the first time to submit my poetry for an anthology http://www.singlitstation.com/thousandcranes . (Image of poster taken from singlitstation.com) The theme and subject matter somewhat speak to me. The topic of coping with illnesses and death can be a taboo topic and yet all of us will die one day. On the other hand, if we were given a life of immortality without pain and suffering, can we truly live? Will we appreciate our moments in life and the opportunities given to us? Or do we feel empty without a purpose? Indeed, this is not an easy question to answer. I felt good after writing the poem. It gave me a different outlet to express m
I looked at his pale face and frail body on the hospital bed. Lines and tubes on his legs and neck. There was a bag at the right side with yellowish looking water inside. The liquid was not urine but water which had to be pumped out from his stomach cavity. It was difficult to see someone whom you have known since young to look so weak. He had lost weight and aged considerably. It was the second day of Chinese New Year. My sister and I took a trip down to Kuala Lumpur to visit relatives. We visited a cousin at the High Dependency Unit, he had liver cancer and was complaining of diarrhea. Visiting hours were 11.30am to 1.30am and 5.30pm to 7.30pm. We had to take turns going in as only 2 guests at a time are allowed. Despite having the experience of a prolonged stay at the hospital and being immobile, I was tongue tied. I didn’t know what to say or how to comfort him. I could only share with him of my previous struggle at the hospital. On our second visit bef