It came upon me as slow as a snail and then suddenly hit me faster than a high-speed freight train. And a runaway one at that.
Why did it take so long? Is it indeed the answer to my every-day, omnipresent, problematic frustration?
The problem lends credence to the old adage: “Pride comes before a fall.”
You see, I am a self-professed aspiring writer. A writer of all things that pop up in my head in the most normal and/or questionable, half-baked moments. The problem is that the ole light bulb will inevitably go off when my imagination is running faster that a hamster on its wheel … on methamphetamines. However, until very recently the light bulb turned on regarding an altogether different situation entirely.
I guess to some extent all writers (or “wannabees”) try to be the second coming of Ernest Hemingway or Margaret Mitchell. That, or the next Jack Kerouac, Hunter S. Thompson, or Maya Angelou.
Uh, the light bulb has turned on and said to me, “Hey Andy, you are just not gonna be one, two, or any of those guys. OK?”
OK.
True that. Darn!
This media platform is one that I (and with considerable assistance, I might add) have come to enjoy and slowly, very slowly, get a handle on using. Except for one thing: how the heck does one go about acquiring subscribers? Or at least getting enough to satiate one’s hunger and the blood, sweat, tears, and calloused fingertips from typing on 95,000 Apple laptop keys every other day. One reason I was so excited to get this new laptop and abandon my clunker of an old one was because I just knew it could and would help me with my endeavor of writing blog posts. For one thing, at least this keyboard is a lot quieter than the old one.
Well, the one section of this new lightbulb storm of ideas went off when I read a comment that someone on the platform wrote to me. This guy had read one of my posts and taken the time to write a comment. It was valuable feedback and I thanked him.
Then I thought: hey dude, you have been so busy writing your own stuff that you have not even slightly taken the time to read anybody else’s stuff. You think you are a writer, but you ain’t much of a reader.
Hmmmm.
The assumption here is that every other writer, whether on this or any other platform, probably want his or her “stuff” to be read. I mean, I do too. I sure don’t want to be the only one reading my material. I’ve already read my posts a hundred times before, during, and after every single said writing and editing session.
During this scripturient endeavor, I’ve developed any number of ideas on how to market my writing. For one, I’m no spring chicken, and as such, I turn to some tried and not always true ways. How about emailing friends and family?
What a novel idea! Find them any which way you can, but start a spreadsheet and keep adding them.
I’ve resorted to getting email addresses in quite a few ways: one being, messaging people on other social media platforms who are my friends. Some thought truly goes into this. Nothing like coming out of the blue after Lord knows how long it’s been and kind of asking for a favor. A favor that is important to you but probably trivial to them. One contact begged off getting an email with my blog posts because she already gets a bajillion emails a day and just can’t handle any more. OK, that’s fair. Then she wrote “but I admire your hustle.” That was a worthy nugget to receive. Hey, you can fault me for quite a few things, but “not trying” is not one of them!
I have now started a Word doc consisting of other writers’ posts that I have read. Let’s see if that works!
You may not see my “stuff” for a while, and I’d like to think it is because I’m busy reading for the time being.
Before that fall, I hope I have checked my pride at the door and, at least momentarily, been in this case empathetic enough to do what other writers want people to do.
Read their stuff.