Someone just asked me where they could read my work, and I didn’t tell them about this blog.
It’s an interesting paradox. I’m proud of this blog, and writing soothes me– yet I don’t promote my writing.
In this ultra-liberal world, everyone is telling their life story and trying to get famous.
The greatest act of rebellion in these times is to keep information to yourself, to choose privacy. To eschew social networking.
To be conservative.
It was freeing when I deleted my facebook for a couple of months. I only came back because of my column, since I wasn’t getting much interaction and response about it on just the newspaper comments alone.
I’m not one to Google someone before a first date. I prefer mystery. My old journalism instincts flare up– I’d rather interview someone in person, get to know them face to face. I don’t just want to read about them or talk on the phone.
But that conflicts with my fundamental identity as a writer.
I like to be able to share my work, but at my own behest. I like being able to choose who will read it, and when.
Maybe that will change as I grow more confident. Maybe I’ll break through that conservative mind frame in which I was raised.
And the plot thickens!