Self-doubt ruined my weekend.

It was in the fall of 2014. I had just moved to Asheville, NC, and heard about this Wild Words weekend writers retreat to be held at a secluded yoga center in Tennessee.

It was my first writing retreat. I was excited and optimistic.

We wrote to prompts and after twenty or thirty minutes of writing, we all shared what we read. After the second prompt, I listened to everyone else read their work.

They were incredible.

It dawned on me that what I wrote was shite.

I could feel this sense of dread twist and turn in my bowels and claw its way up my throat.

It was my turn to read.

“I pass,” I said.

In a Gateless Writing retreat, you’re in a safe space. The only feedback you get is positive. Not patronizing but constructive:

What speaks to you as a listener? What word or phrase punched you in the gut with its power and vulnerability?

“Are you sure?” said the facilitator, Suzanne Kingsbury.

I nodded.

The doubt ate away at any confidence or optimism I had. The whole weekend, I couldn’t shake it.

I continued to write to the prompts and read, not much with feeling.

I felt too low on the totem pole to reach out to Suzanne, so entrenched was my doubt.

Finally I confided with another attendee. She made me promise that I’d read the piece I passed on before I leave that retreat.

At the last possible moment, I did. It took every ounce of courage to do so.

As I read, everyone’s jaw dropped. Or maybe that was my jaw, as I received the feedback from the room and the deep knowing from Suzanne, who saw and felt in my words what I wasn’t yet able to comprehend.

It was the first time someone mirrored back to me the depths of my soul and called it good.

I sobbed.

That piece became my first published story.

Don’t give up. Believe in yourself.

And find your tribe who will empower you and encourage you.