There Will Be Blood (and Sweat and Tears)

I’ve never considered myself a writer.

Then, you may ask, why did you sign up for Invictus?  It’s quite simple really, because Brad asked me to.  That was enough for me.  He seems to know what he’s doing.

As I sit here, writing my first scene, a million things are running through my head.  Here’s a sample:

            What’d I get myself into?

            I’m not a writer!

            Wait, am I a writer?

            People are going to read this.

            People are going to know stuff about you.

            I don’t even talk about some of these things with my friends!

            This is so terrible.

            It’ll get better.

            Will it?

            It won’t.

            It will.

            I need to do laundry.

We’re only three weeks in, and I already feel like it’s been a year.  I’ve thought more about the serious stuff in my life in the last three weeks than I have in the last few years.  I’m going where therapists make you go, and facing things I never knew I needed to face.  Skeletons are coming out of the closet that I thought I threw out with the trash years ago.  A few are tangled up with the ones I knew were there, and I didn’t even know it.

Not to mention, I’ve already cried.  I don’t make it a habit of crying at all, let alone in front of people, let alone in front of strangers.  But I did.

It’ll all be worth it.

I think.

Writing is hard.  <– Biggest understatement ever.