The writing grant

Throughout this process I had learned.

And perhaps this was the point?

*

A writing grant could enable yet constrain.

My capacity always tested with two factors to consider.

My ability to achieve, despite the unyielding.

To achieve, ever mindful of the potential for deteriorating mental health.

*

I had no intension of applying.

I knew my capacity to succeed was questionable.

*

Still exhausted from readying my submission for the ‘Next Chapter Grant: an opportunity to discover new writers from suburbia.’

My application was a compilation of existing work; plus three newly completed chapters from a planned for Novella.

Sequential chapters or excepts of no consequence.

What were they looking for?

A demonstration of an engaging pitch.

When completed, there was potential to succeed in the commercial market.

The skills to manage the two year funded grant’s budget and reporting obligations.

To ensure completion within the time frame constraints.

The reward?

The completed from the chosen.

Published and promoted.

‘The Next Chapter Grant: an opportunity to discover new writers from suburbia.’

Discover me!

My poetry!

My Novella!

I thought it a given.

Only to be rejected.

My capacity was lacking and I knew my skills did not meet those of the broader requirements.

*

And then?

A new Grant opportunity arrived by invitation.

I had no intension of applying.

I knew my capacity to succeed was questionable.

I fought my anxiety and applied via the designated essay format; regardless of existing uncomfortable parameters.

A grant that required writing to another’s prescribed brief within a group project environment.

Group projects made me shudder; memories from my University studies.

And then?

A phone-call revealed my application was successful!

I would participate, regardless of my understanding that the parameters were uncomfortable for me.

An author that by legal decree would remain anonymous.

Anonymous without the ability to add to further grant applications.

Anonymous; for others to discover.

Not able to confirm if I was the author.

Writing to another’s prescribed brief within a group.

Though our individual chapters would inevitably explore different avenues regarding the trauma that impacted on our lives.

The focus, was that trauma had launched our mental illnesses.

I had no intension of applying.

And yet it did!

Over the 9 months my capacity was revealed.

I felt the loss.

Deadlines once easily met, were now missed.

I sent apologies.

Each time pleading for an extension on the deadline.

With promises that it would not happen again.

But it did.

Writing my chapter exploring trauma and my mental illness, hurt.

Yet I would accomplish; nonetheless.

I was rigorously determined despite my obstacles.

From rigorously determined to published!

*

And so?

I feel a burden lifting.

Relief!

A deadline met yet the project not quite birthed.

It’s still a while until the private launch on August 24 2019.

A healing?

Worth it?

Yes.

It has been hard.

It had hurt.

It was difficult, raw and disturbing.

Throughout, my home was in disarray and contributed to my mental suffering.

My yearning was on ice.

During the gestation my want to write for myself had caused duress.

I feel a burden lifting!

Relief!

And so?

Today back to cleaning!

My haven returning; mending my mind.

Each object and trinket has substance.

I understand their meaning. I reflect on this as I place and position each.

I’m cooking again!

Rice paper rolls.

Lunch in my home with a friend.

Perhaps that vision board is working?

And so?

It seems.

Today, ‘I am enough.’

*

This writing grant revealed my capacity struggle.

My mental health had seriously deteriorated in the end.

*

Perhaps to blame was the outcome and the impact compared to my imagined?

I was now a published author of a chapter in a best selling book that by legal decree left me anonymous.

Anonymous without the ability to add to further grant applications.

Anonymous; for others to discover.

Not able to confirm that I am the author.

*

Through this process I had learned.

And perhaps this was the point?

*

Right now?

Vocal+ best meets my need to write and reflect wth meaning on my life.

I write with embedded photographs and videos.

My intent, to further engage the reader’s senses.

Vocal+ is my place to read and discover.

My place to enjoy the wonderment.

My place to truely engage and interact with other authors.

Vocal+ is my place; an online global publishing platform and community for creatives.

Pauline Fountain. © 2023. All rights reserved. No part of this work may be used or reproduced without the written permission of the author.