About five years ago, I did the first public reading of my non-academic writing. I was a 40-something-year-old doctor, and I was terrified.

It was at a narrative medicine event, and I’d been selected to read one of my personal essays.

A few days earlier, an experienced performer had given me some pointers, identifying which word in each sentence should be emphasised, and where I should add dramatic pauses. I now had so many underlines and symbols on my printed essay clutched in my hand I wasn’t sure I’d be able to read it.

When my turn came, I went to the front, clutched the microphone for dear life, and read.