I came out tonight.
Not to my friends. They still don't know about all this writing. It's a little problematic when most of it is kinky and my fan base comes via my secret blog.
But I took the next step. I went to a meeting of a poet's group.
I was nervous as hell. I contacted the organizer first and asked if I could come without presenting anything, just to see what it was like, the level of the poems, the flavor of them. She said sure, yes of course, she wouldn't in fact be there but another guy would be running it.
So I went, bringing a page of poems just in case. You're supposed to bring 20 copies. Which I did. Safe poems. I didn't have a lot of choices.
I need to write more vanilla stuff.
So I went and at first the substitute leader was the only one there. An older Scottish guy. Finally someone else turned up. Another new person - an intense young black woman.
He read. OK. She read. Really intense. The fiend would have loved the driving rhythm. She had never been to a group either. Then I agreed to read. I actually offered three: 2 small ones and a longer one. I haven't posted them here. I'm holding back the ones that are fit for public consumption, to protect my anonymity if I share them outside of kinky blogland. I got a couple of good suggestions. I think I may bring my unfinished cat sonnet to see if I can get some help.
There's another group in town that sounds more demanding than this one. I'd love to go there sometime. I think they would push me more, spank me more. But this is good for a start.
I wrote the philosopher ahead of time to tell him I was going. So I wouldn't chicken out.
I am a poet now. I took the plunge.
I'm proud of myself.
And I'm twitching.
My cunt tingles.
Creativity turns me on.