Echoes from the Past: A Lisbon Story Unfolds
A Writer Finds Her Power
The cobblestone streets of Lisbon whispered secrets beneath my feet as I hurried towards the retreat venue. Each step carried the weight of a lifelong dream, a dream I’d held close since I was a girl with a worn leather journal and an ink-stained thumb.
Memories flickered like fireflies: scrawling stories by the dim glow of a bedside lamp, passing folded notes in the hushed corners of the high school library, each one bursting with teenage angst and unbridled dreams. Writing wasn’t just a hobby; it was my lifeline, a way to navigate the tumultuous waters of adolescence.
It felt both comical and tragic that it had taken me until my mid-thirties to fully embrace this passion. Years spent climbing the corporate ladder, burdened by student loans, had stolen precious time and energy.
But somewhere along the way, amidst the spreadsheets and boardroom meetings, a spark reignited. The little girl with the overflowing journal resurfaced, her voice demanding to be heard.
Here I was, in Lisbon, on the cusp of something extraordinary. This book retreat wasn’t just a vacation; it was a declaration. A declaration that societal expectations could be damned. My voice, once silenced, was back, stronger and louder than ever. With 21% of my book already a reality, the retreat felt like a springboard, a launchpad to propel me towards the finish line — 50% or more, by the end of the week.
Pushing open the heavy wooden door of the venue, I was greeted by a warm embrace of creativity. The air crackled with a shared energy, a symphony of minds united in the pursuit of storytelling. This was my tribe, my fellow dreamers, and I knew, with a fierce certainty, that this book, my book, would finally be born.
The journey had been long, but the destination a completed manuscript, a voice shared with the world was tantalizingly close. So, Lisbon, brace yourself. The little girl with the overflowing journal is all grown up, and she has a story to tell.
