This was to be a fully loaded post on my mixed emotions this morning. I tapped out a post on my iPAD, generated to meet the day’s Insecure Writer’s Support Group mission – to blog the first Wednesday of each month.
But – fate (in the guise of WordPress) stepped in. On trying to insert an image for the post, out of my media files, the whole post disappeared. So, this is a new one.
Yesterday I wrote of my new writing goals – the big strategy one, and the smaller ones. I was disappointed to find that my goals didn’t really register (for comments, anyway) with others. I sometimes find the whole social media thing a little tough going – and admit to some envy I feel when I see other people who have just joined in with groups getting a number of comments and attention on their own blog which is far above mine. It makes me doubt my own writing ability, and certainly panders to my deep down beliefs that I have little to offer.
But then I get to thinking. I’m a hermit by nature. I would be best placed up in a cave somewhere. Going to writing conferences, even going onto critique groups etc – that’s facing a fear each time I do it. And nowadays you have to do it – build that author’s platform, seek out beta readers, critique other’s work, build up that network. None of it easy for a natural introvert.
Which makes me feel a little better about my own efforts to face those fears and do my best on these challenges.
For the ROW80 challenge, I spend a lot of time going around reading other’s blogs. I haven’t seen those comments I’ve posted reciprocated in numbers, but I’m also still going to do it – because I always learn from others, and I appreciate that I’m writing in a genre that a lot of women writers aren’t. And a lot of the group members in things like these challenges are women.
But a piece of me, that resistant piece, starts grinding away at me. Little whispers – do you really think that if Stephen King, or Stephanie Meyer, or JK Rowling, if entering the writing community in this day and age, would have sat there blogging, social networking, joining online writer’s groups, critiqueing, doing blog rounds, commenting, going to conferences, and networking, like most wannabe authors do nowadays?And would they have told the world their goals before obtaining them?
Can’t you just get on with writing and work on all that later? Maybe, then – it’ll just go away. Somehow.
Sometimes the whispers get to me. Like today. I’ve arrived home from the beach, it’s 34 degrees, sweat is running down my forehead, and this laptop is too hot to touch for any longterm.