I remember back to the day that i was accepted by my publisher and grin. The excitement of the moment was a wonderful feeling, then reality set in. I had absolutely no idea what to expect and approached each one of the task i was assigned by my publisher with glee and wonder. What I didn’t expect was how addictive all of it became.
I was told to market, to establish an online presence, create a blog, yada yada. For me, each one of those tasks took on a life of their own, I became overly concerned with collecting followers on Twitter, writing blog posts, finding ways to automate posts, and more yada yada. My whole existence became about the presence I was told to establish. The thrill of my work being in the public eye was gone. In short it was all about the marketing, the creation of the author persona, the peddling of my wares to a world I didn’t know.
The tasks my publisher requested I perform all made sense, and were the right things to do to make money selling my compilation of words to an unsuspecting readerdom. I went out into that world expecting to end up being the very next Stephen King. What happened along the way was completely unexpected.
I became obsessed with keeping in touch with the people I had connected with via the world of micro-blogging. The book no longer mattered, what mattered to me more than anything else was showing the world what a great, caring, and wonderful guy I wanted to be. I became overly active in seeking validation from people I had never met. My TweetDeck application ran 18 hours a day, and I started skipping out on family functions because I was afraid I would miss that one Tweet of the day that would make me feel good about myself. The obsession with external validation nearly drove me insane.
And all this happened in a short 4 month span of time.
Today is not the same. Today the creation of Dream State has to stand on its own, it has to be good enough by itself without my being overly concerned with whether people get it or not. Today, I have some one that manages and secures all those things for me that need be accomplished to get the word out. Today, I rarely use Twitter.
Today I am again comfortable with me, warts, bumps and all.
I hope that some one out there can identify with my tale, and find some solace in knowing they are not the only one feeling the feelings they have.