Okay, so not really. Anyone who's read even a post or two on this blog knows better than to believe that. But still, my writing is getting its first public unveiling. In front of real, actual, living, breathing people. And it feels weird...
I got a call from my new therapist a couple of days ago. At first I assumed it was probably just to reschedule an appointment. I mean, what else could it be? "I don't need to reschedule, but..." Oh shit, I haven't done anything illegal and I'm not in crisis, what else could there be? What did I do? Am I going to be carted away and locked up? Will there be a straight jacket involved? Can I get mine bedazzled? Is my reservation for the padded room? Because I like that one the best. Can I at least make sure they hook me up with the good drugs?
What she said next was entirely unexpected. She asked if I would give permission for them to use something I wrote on my blog. Next week, the agency that I receive my therapy through is hosting its annual fundraising luncheon. They want to share what I wrote at the luncheon and use it for their marketing materials. I didn't see that coming at all.
I know, I know. It's a small thing. But for someone who doesn't think much of their own writing, the fact that they think highly enough of it to use it in their fundraising and marketing is quite an honor. I feel all legit and stuff now (mostly the 'and stuff' but still). It's just kind of near and I'm just tickled that they even remember it, let alone thought enough of it to go through that kind of trouble to share it.
Plus, it gives me the right to call myself a writer, right?
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