Two of my favorite movies ever – ever, ever! – are Anne of Green Gables and its sequel…the ones made in the 1980s by a Canadian production company and played on PBS once a year or so. I don’t know how many times I’ve watched the two movies, both of which clock in at over three hours, but I can practically recite all six-plus hours. I love the characters, the scenery, the story…

And I love Gilbert Blythe. (Let’s face it, what girl doesn’t?)

But it’s the character of Anne Shirley who makes the story what it is. I love Anne and always feel like I identify with her, even though I’m not an orphan, don’t have red hair and have never broken a slate over a boy’s head. It’s her wild imagination and restless whimsy I connect with. So much so that if I’m ever feeling misunderstood or lonely – which isn’t often, thank goodness – watching either of the Anne movies makes me feel quite a bit better. Seriously!

And yeah, I could gush over the movies for a heck of a long time.

But that’s not the point of this post. (And I’m taking a long time to get to the point, aren’t I?) So, last night I plopped the second Anne movie into my dvd player to watch while I folded laundry. And about 20-25 minutes into the movie came a scene I adore. (Okay, I adore most of the scenes…) It’s the part where Gilbert Blythe gives his honest opinion of a short story Anne has written entitled “Averil’s Atonement.” And Gilbert, well, he opts for a little constructive criticism over straight flattery, teasing Anne about the way her characters interact.

“Maybe if you just let your character speak everyday English, instead of all that highfaluting mumbo jumbo. ‘Wilt thou give up thy garter, oh fairest of the fair?’ Anne, nobody speaks that way. And look at that sap Percival who sits around mooning the entire time. He never lets a girl get a word in edgewise. In real life she’d have pitched him.”

Anne’s response is classic. She seethes, eyes big, lips pursed…and she hits him with a basket full of flowers. I love it! (Yes, in the first movie she breaks a slate over his head, in the second she hits him with a basket. And yet, he asks her to marry him not once, not twice, but three times!)

So…slight curve in the course of conversation: When I was at the Colorado Christian Writers Conference last month, I met just one other writer from Iowa. We got to talking, and I asked her if she had any interest in starting a writer’s group here in Iowa. Now, she and I and another writer are taking the summer to get our new writer’s group organized! I’m excited…but a daunting reality settled over me the other day as I thought about this new venture: I’m going to have to show these other writers my work…(gulp)…

And that’s scary to me! It really is. I worked for a newspaper for three years and was never nervous about others reading my articles. And I’m not at all self-conscious about this blog. But for some reason, I feel incredibly vulnerable when it comes to my creative writing, especially the book I’ve been working on. In college classes I was always having to exercise a degree of bravery and let others see my stuff. But it’s been awhile since college…and I’ve sort of retreated into a creative shell only a few people have been invited into.

I don’t know why, but sharing my writing feels so very personal. Like it’s a magnified reflection of me. One of the things “the experts” kept saying at the Colorado conference was that when publishers turn down your work, it’s a rejection of your work, not you. That may be well and true, but I’m going to venture a guess that if my work is someday rejected, it’ll be all I can do not to take it personally. Is it really possible to separate myself from my writing?

I don’t know. (But I can tell you this: I don’t generally make it a habit to carry around baskets of flowers…so we’re okay there. I won’t be knocking any publishers over…)

It’s clear to me, though, if I ever want this writing dream to go anywhere, I’m going to have to emerge from the shell, brave up and share what I’ve got. And actually, I suppose I took a pretty big first step by attending the writers conference in the first place and submitting a portion of my story for critiquing. That was an incredibly positive experience.

So I’m thinking maybe a good second step would be to post a scene or two from the beginning of my book in one of my next blog entries. Though I don’t know, the thought of putting even just one scene “out there” makes my palms clammy. Eek…

But hey, if Anne can walk the ridge-pole of Moody Spurgeon’s roof…