My stomach feels a little sick. It's my inner introvert.
I did a lot of writing (a guest column and numerous interviews) for today's issue of our local paper. The focus of the issue was cancer, and since I'm the Relay For Life publicity girl, I played a pretty big role in it.
The issue came out today. It looks good. I haven't read it yet because I'm weird about reading my stuff in print, but the issue looks really good.
My guest column was rather heartfelt in that I talked about several people I know who have died recently of cancer. The main thrust of the column, though, was to let everyone know that they were invited and encouraged to join us at next week's Relay For Life event.
I'm scared I came off as sounding holier-than-thou. You know--"I'm going to be there because I'm a Good Person. Where are you going to be?" That's not how I meant it at all, of course, so I really hope I didn't come across that way.
But the real reason I'm feeling queasy is that I revealed some of myself in those articles. I wrote from the heart. This wasn't a technical document or a press release that I threw together and sent off. These took time, and these articles are about real people with real lives. And I have bylines on every one of them. I am not used to having bylines.
I think I know why I haven't tried harder to be a *published* writer ... I get all weirded out (in a bad way) whenever my writing makes the move from some private little room in my brain to the big, scary world of publication.
Sometimes I think I so understand Emily Dickinson!