A girl i always chatted with at chipotle finally sat down with me the other day during her break. I told her I was a writer, and was elated when she handed me her phone to let me read a dark poem she had written. I asked if I could read it back to her out loud and she let me. It was nice.

I wouldn't have done it if I hadn't been reading to myself out loud recently, and also at workshops where we have the opportunity to recite after doing writing prompts. I always like hearing people nervously sharing meaningful experiences.

In Houston we have something called Gentle Hour, where people gather in a rather cozy circle, taking turns to read something they wrote. Storytime is alive and well, and not just the “Grown-up Storytime” you find at open-mic bars!