There will be no apologies about your words. It’s what Lauren Winner says, swiping her arms like an umpire yelling safe to the writer.
I push back, press into the rungs of the ladderback and insert my breath into the collective sigh. We’re fifteen writers learning from an author of hardcovers. I’ve held all of her books in my hands, alongside a highlighter.
She travels the country, teaching writers and scholars in prestigious institutions and our idealistic views about writing, they expose themselves in her silver horn-rims at the front of the room. Views that hold creativity captive to imitation.
We notice how much we do it. How we let the air out of our thoughts by prefacing with an apology. How it flattens the essence of who we are.
She sheds the idealism by extending a hand of permission, to be ourselves.
It’s a game changer.
Because we do apologize. Often. For how we look, what we say, for the behavior of our children, the dinner we cook or don’t cook. We apologize for the messy sprawled out on the playroom floor, for the dirty dishes on the counter, for the soiled seats in our car. For not being spiritual enough.
And Jesus rejoices over you with singing. (Zephaniah 3:17)
Not when you wear the latest trends, compose the perfect sentence, cash a check for all your hard work, recite the perfect prayer. Now, in your pajamas at noon, seated there in front of the computer screen with hair you haven’t washed in three days.
Jesus is pulling up a chair next to you, looking in your eyes and asking, “What can I do for you.” How will you respond if you can’t apologize for who you are not?
This is the second post in the series 31 Days of Letting Go. You can read the collective here. If you are a writer, I invite you to link up your post on the topic in the comments on Friday of each week so we can glean from your perspective. Subscribe to receive the series in your inbox or feed by adding your address in the side bar under Follow Redemptions Beauty.