Tonight, for the first time ever, I moderated a panel of Latino writers discussing their craft. Talk about pressure! As soon as I sent the girls off to school, anxiety set in, and whenever something affects me on an emotional level it manifests itself physically. In this particular instance, the jitters activated my allergies, swelling my eyes shut and making me feel “icky” all the way around.
When the jitters take over they can easily ruin your reason for living. Thoughts of “Will anyone show up?” or “Can the audience see me shaking?” clouded my judgment and took me on an uncomfortable detour, which made a strong network of cheerleaders vital. Tonight, my daughters were those cheerleaders, assuring me that it would be great, that my outfit was fine, and telling me outright to get out of the house.
And of course I had the best time. I learned a lot about these great storytellers—Alicia Anabel Santos, Charlie Vázquez and Jose Luis Vilson—and a lot about myself and what I can do when I really put in the work and listen to the people in my corner. What I really took away from this experience, however, is the notion that we all have a story to tell and a natural conduit within us with which to tell it. Sometimes mine is a (bad) poem, or a really good short story. But other times it’s in the gatherings I put together that snowball into a conversation that affects us all.
I just know this will be my ticket to immortality.
xoxo,
Raquel Ivelisse