Words have always been my playground. From childhood scribbles to whispered poems, my pen has been a compass, navigating me through stories and adventures. Writing wasn't just a hobby; it was the oxygen I breathed, the lens through which I saw the world.
Yet, the thought of publishing, of sending my words beyond the familiar corners of my notebooks, felt impossibly vast. It wasn't until my life-coaching days, witnessing the transformative power of growth even after workshops ended, that a spark ignited. I wanted to build an ongoing bridge, a toolbox of wisdom accessible beyond our shared sessions. That's how my games and companion workbooks were born, each a playful guide along the path of self-discovery.
I realized that personal growth transcended workshops and books. It bloomed daily in how we use words and our stories. And what better canvas for expression than a book? My first, "Gymnodon," became the cornerstone of a game series for parents and children, a testament to the magic of blending learning with joy.
Children, though, hold a special place in my heart. They're whispers of hope, living canvases of a brighter future. This love became my shield, deflecting any doubts about publishing. Sharing my book at book week felt like stepping onto a sunlit stage, and even Facebook felt less like a digital abyss and more like a cozy corner to share whispers with kindred spirits.
But while words flowed easily under my fingers, my voice – well, that was a different story. I, the writer crafting captivating narratives, was content to hide behind the curtain, letting my words carry the spotlight. So, when the opportunity arose to record the audiobook for "Gymnodon," I envisioned a professional narrator, a warm and familiar voice gliding through the pages. My voice? Never.
Then, fate intervened. A TV story flickered onto my screen, introducing me to Bae Ga Chol, a Korean tenor who defied the silence of a throat tumor to sing again. His grit, his refusal to let his voice be silenced, resonated deeply within me. If he could reclaim his song, indeed, I could find mine.
Recording the audiobook was an awkward dance. My voice, unfamiliar to my ears, stumbled through sentences. Yet laughter filled the room as Hadas, the editor, patiently guided me. It was an odyssey of self-discovery, a battle cry against inner voices of doubt. And in the end, it was…liberating.
My journey is far from over, but here's what I've learned: the world can be noisy, but your voice matters. It's your unique melody, your story whispered to the wind. So, step onto the stage, own your voice, and let your words paint the world in vibrant hues. It's a journey worth singing, writing, and living.
Ready to find your voice and paint the world with vibrant hues?
Head over to The Mined, your digital treasure trove of self-discovery tools! Explore our curated collection of resources designed to ignite your inner storyteller and empower you to express yourself loud and proud.
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