I used to have intense conversations with myself in the shower.
I thought about them in my head as speeches.
I would stand there in the steamy jet, meditating on someone or something that had really been lighting my fire lately.
I would get out my imaginary soap box. I would gather, in my imagination, the people who I wanted to hear my words the most.
I would prepare my most dramatic and emphatic stage whisper – so my family and/or roommates wouldn’t think I was a nerd – and I would
Speak
My
Heart
Out
(I own up to my reputation as a too-long shower-taker. It’s my most shameful vice).
Until one day I realized I wasn’t giving speeches.
I was speaking poems.
So I got a waterproof phone case and started bringing my phone into the shower with me so I could write my thoughts down in my notes. And I’ve done it every day since.
How did I never know I wanted to be a writer?
An Experiment with Vulnerability 