A friend of mine, upon reading my missives of the past few days, declared, "It's worse than I thought."
He's right. I stepped into a maelstrom of selling myself, and it drowned me. And I'm practically dead, washed up on shore, and I'm the only one there to resuscitate me.
Ok, the first thing is to claw my way back up the beach before the next wave takes me back out. One dragging crawl at a time.
Once I'm far enough from the waves, I flop on my back and think: What do I want out of writing?
I want to write well and improve.
I want to be read by more than just my husband.
I want people to enjoy my work.
I don't want to be big; I just want to be read and enjoyed.
I don't know how to do this, which is why I waded into what ended up being the SEO maelstrom, the belief that selling one's work is more important than writing and that quality is defined by how many page hits one gets.
There was a saying once upon a time: "Do what you love and the rest will follow." I don't know if I believe this; it assumes that there is a force in the universe that will promote my project over someone else's. I don't want a God who will prioritize my dreams over Flint's water problem or Puerto Rico's ravaged infrastructure. I'll do what I love, but I don't have faith that the rest will follow. Which is why, I suspect, I walked into the shrieking maelstrom in the first place.
No comments:
Post a Comment
I believe that everyone here comes with good intent. If you come to spoil my assumptions by verbal abuse, excessive profanity, spam or other abuses I had not considered, I reserve the right to delete your notes or delete your participation. I am the arbiter of what violates good intent.