Imagine, if you will:

You’re the type of person who would rather send a text than have a face to face conversation (about anything).

You’re the type of person who freezes when someone comes to the door; like a deer sensing a predator you hold completely still until they go away. (What kind of person actually goes to someone else’s house??)

You’re the type of person who wants to go to parties and hang out with friends, until you actually have to do so. And then you wonder what on earth possessed you to think it was a good idea in the first place.

I’m that person. I’m awkward, never really know what to say, and worry about making an utter otter of myself.

So going to a massive festival with loads of people I know and more that I don’t would seem preposterous, right?

Obviously, I went.

Women’s Week in Provincetown is a gathering of lots of women for all kinds of fun, including lots of author readings, Q&A sessions, and signings. I’ve done a few of these on a small scale already, but this was a bigger thing. Lots of people I really respect were there, and I didn’t want to disappoint.

It was awesome.

People were really kind. They laughed in the right places. They chatted like I was normal. We joked, shared stories, swapped writing tips, and got to know about one another beyond the scope of what goes on a page.

I’m very lucky to get to indulge my passion the way I do.