Two years ago I had the privilege of taking a master class with Amy Ferris at a writers’ conference in Hawaii. I had just read her book Marrying George Clooney: Confessions of a Midlife Crisis and, later, Dancing at the Shame Prom: Sharing the Stories that Kept us Small. Amy is smart, even brilliant, and funny. Sometimes hilarious. Mostly, she’s a truth-teller.
Since that time, we friended on Facebook and I follow her posts. She is powerful and persuasive, encouraging and challenging women to own their power. And as powerful as I think I am there are also times I feel very small.
Anyone who is an artist of any sort: writer, painter, musician, singer, graphic designer… knows how vulnerable it feels to be so naked in public. And then waiting for response. From friends, the public, critics, and in my case, even theologians. I am challenged by Amy’s posts (not just one, but many) to stand up, ask for what you want, insist on respect. She says ‘be noisy, be loud’ and challenges her readers, ‘dreams are not meant to be tossed aside’.
I messaged her a while back and asked her to read my book. She responded with a heart emoji. What do I make of that? So here I am being noisy and loud and asking again for what I want because this woman makes a difference to me and shared a part of my journey and continues to inspire me, however unknowing.
Amy Ferris, read my book!