Yesterday was National Authors Day!
I missed it. I'm a writer and I missed it. I was too busy writing.
I did a lot of writing yesterday, after work. Yes, being a writer is part of my work, but I don't consider it a job since for me writing is like breathing, most days.
I came home from the church office, ate dinner, walked for an hour, and then proceeded to work on one article for seven and a half hours. Most articles don't take seven and a half hours, in fact they rarely take over an hour. But this one was different. I basically had to open myself up for surgery to write it, bleed and cry all over the place, and then and stitch myself up when it was over.
Ernest Hemingway once said, "There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed." I am fascinated by Hemingway and toured his house last year, with every step wondering if he felt many of the things I do when I write.
The most life changing things one creates are done while bleeding emotionally with tears streaming down your face. In my experience of writing projects like this, some will love it and some will hate it. Because nothing that strong escapes an extreme reaction from people either way.
I need a break from all the emotion.
I'm glad today is National Deviled Egg Day.