This was my first public reading of my own work. I knew almost everyone in the audience, and I only read for about three minutes, but it was still nerve wracking.
Writing is a gateway to vulnerability. You put something down on paper, revise it, revise it, and then send it into the void saying, "Well, this is the best I got." And if the people don't dig it, you just press on.
I have, however, an incredible group of friends who dig everything I write, if only out of loyalty. I could have read my class notes on Samuel Beckett and they would have cheered me on. I really appreciate the shelter that the good opinion of my fellow writers is providing while I work on developing my thick skin.
So, that made me think about my blog and the same kind of warm, sappy, fuzzy feelings surfaced. You guys are great. Thanks for reading the good posts and the boring posts. Thanks for sticking through the lean months.
Wow, am I really going to post something so sentimental?
At least it's short.