Bleeding

"There's nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and open a vein." Walter Wellesley Smith

Almost ten months ago I started Hero In Your Soul. It wasn't about me. Not at first anyway. Two other friends had an idea and I started blogging to promote that. They haven't taken their concept anywhere yet, but I am still at it. Looking through the blog archive, I wrote forty-seven posts in April and three in August, with the other months somewhere in between. If I had something to say, I would write.

I hesitated to say I was a writer. Many people fancy themselves the author of the next great American novel. I have had friends say they were going to write the story of their life, and I secretly (snarkily) thought, "I know a lot about your life and trust me, it's not that interesting." But it's likely I didn't want to proclaim myself a writer, because then I would have to write. But I said it and it's out there now, no taking it back. I write. I am a writer.

Recently I have begun to impose some discipline to my writing. Each day I carve out some time to write. I may not publish a post that day, but I will write. Yesterday afternoon I was wondering why I felt spent...physically, emotionally, mentally. It was because I had been writing and it's hard work. For someone who is a somewhat private person to share herself in her writing? Well, that takes even more out of me.

But I am a writer. So I shall write.

Susan