Some days I wakeup and refuse to look in the mirror. Not because I think I’m unpretty but because some days I simply can’t face myself. For the last few weeks the pages of my manuscript have felt like my mirror, and I didn’t want to see my reflection. I didn’t want to accept them.
I keep forgetting that writing is about self-discovery. When I first started writing this book, I wanted to tell the world everything I knew about funeral service. I wanted everyone to be able to share my laughs and understand how I became obsessed with the funeral industry. There were all of these rich moments with shootouts and car accidents and mixing-up bodies and I just wanted to scribble them on a page. I thought I could tell those things without exposing myself. I thought I was writing a book about a funeral home—and I was. I thought I was writing about the industry of death. But I am really writing a book about “me” in a funeral home. That’s what makes the difference.
I said all of that to say that the more time I spend with this manuscript, the more I learn about myself. There are so many character revealing moments that have left me shocked and others that have left me shamed. But the one thing that my character in this book continues to reveal is that I am human. There were days that I felt like some sort of angel. Some days I knew for sure I had been a godsend for individuals. But I was human and that’s what I need to remember while I finish these last few chapters.