How exciting. I’ve always wanted to have one, haven’t you?
When I began this writing project, I kept it to myself, and just a few friends. A select group of real-life buddies, “imaginary” (message-board) friends, and a couple of family members. I didn’t want to put myself out there, to see the doubtful expressions of people I know and love. To feel the disappointment in the face of that doubt, in them, and in myself.
Like when I began announcing my intention to participate in a sprint triathlon. Oh, so often: the not-quite-hidden smirk, the awkward or overly enthusiastic nod and smile, the “I’ll believe it when I see it” look. The almost-earnest “Well, it’s good to have goals.”
I didn’t want to see that. Or have people ask me the dreaded question, “How’s the novel going?” Because after NaNo, for a while, it wasn’t. Now that I’ve picked it back up, that I’ve continued to learn how to write, at least I feel as though I’m accomplishing something.
But I’m still not “out” as a writer, on Facebook. There are a few more people who are aware of it: more family, thanks to my Christmas wish list and the books I received as gifts. A few more friends. Surprisingly, there is very little crossover between my FB friends list and Twitter followers list, so most of my FB friends remain in the dark. (It is quite common knowledge that I’m a voracious reader, but that’s been a lifelong thing).
Now, on Twitter, I’m out and proud. I tweet about writing, I follow writers, writers follow me, I engage in discussions. It’s lovely. With them, a few new writer friends, and as of last night an actual in-person critique group I almost feel like I belong. Almost. So I immerse myself in these conversations, because thus far it’s been my only opportunity to actually feel like a writer. I can’t get enough, like a child I am overdosing on it, and am probably annoying them with my attentions. It’s helping–the words are flowing, the ideas are coming, and arranging themselves in some semblance of order. I love it.
But I haven’t been able to bring myself to share this blog on FB. Although I shared the link with my husband, I am fairly certain he hasn’t been here yet (if so, he hasn’t mentioned it. Which would be telling. So the very thought of it has me in knots). I barely managed to paste the link into my Twitter profile. While I have mentioned blogging a couple of times, I don’t tweet a link to a specific post, or to the blog in general. I feel like this is a bit of a strip tease, and a not altogether willing one: every time I mention it, or see a new follower, another item of clothing is removed. I worry I’m sharing too much of myself on here. I worry people will see what I’m revealing and laugh. I want to pick up my clothes, cover myself with a robe, and hide.
You grow a little every time you do something difficult. I know this. So, eventually I will do it; I will put myself out there. For now, maybe I’ll just undo a couple of buttons and call it a day.