A Book Nerd's Inner Voices

Awkward Realization

I realize that I seem to post or share quotes on Facebook, words that others have said, more than write something myself. (Awkward.) Possibly it's because I haven't technically published anything myself. I'm a little leery about self-publication, (not that there is anything wrong with it) and I'm still trying to get an agent, myself, before even attempting to contact an editor or publisher for actually getting my novel in print. Because of this, I think there are times when I feel like I don't have a whole lot to say for myself.





I'm pretty sure this is a problem.





I'm a writer! Of course I have a lot to say. But about what? I think a good part of it is, like in real life, I don't always know where to start. Now, you give me a topic and I will go on and on. Sometimes the harder part is getting me to shut up. But I don't like to boast about myself, therefore self-marketing, especially when the real product (my writing) isn't technically out for sale yet, is tough.





Yet, if you get me in a book, in the mind of another, whether it be one of my own creation or from the mind of another, I can whisk you away to a world unknown, take you on adventure, lavish you in witty repartee and casual, snarky banter. I can fill you with a love for these characters, (again, be it my own or another's) and make you feel heartbreak when they do.





I think, sometimes, that I prefer fictional worlds and imaginary people to the real thing. I was told once that I preferred animals to people, and that's true. But I think the real problem may be that I prefer fiction to reality.





I am not an introvert. I have never in my life been described as quiet or shy. And while I've never been one to voluntarily jump off a cliff, a bridge or a waterfall (nor will I ever suggest it), I was always the one my friends made go talk to new people. I was unafraid. Or really, I was terrified, I just didn't let it stop me.





So why am I afraid to talk to any of you? Why is it that when it comes to talking about myself, about anything that truly matters, I am at a loss? Maybe it's just that, like most of us in the human race, I have this overwhelming fear that no one cares. And in a world where someone has to care for my work to be read, to be shared with the masses, what was once a relatively minor insecurity becomes a vast, gaping hole threatening to envelope me in darkness.





Yet, I do believe there is hope. A light at the end of the tunnel, if you will. Just as I have never been described as shy, I have always been described as stubborn, so I doubt I'll stay this way for long.





Cross your fingers for me.