I am trying to be happy no matter what.
I keep erasing my blog post. I think I do this every time it’s my turn. Write and then erase. Write and then erase. That’s because writing makes me feel exposed. Even bloggy writing that is supposed to be dashed off, no one cares.
But they do care.
I care.
I shouldn’t care.
But then why write it if no one is going to like it?
That is the question. Why do I write? Why do I blog? Why do I do anything?
Like book signings.
Authorpalooza was nice. I got to sit by two great friends and met a lot of new people. But book signings are usually very very hard.
One time they put me next to Shannon Hale who is awesome, so awesome in fact that she has a line out the door.
And me?
Not so much of a line at all except there was no one.
I don’t even care. It’s fine. I’ll just sit here and be strong. Should I read my own book? Should I text someone? Should I leave?
No. I am here.
Why am I here?
I wrote a book. Here is the book. It’s a sad book. Should you buy it for your twelve year old? Does he like sad books? Maybe he won’t want to read it. Or maybe he will? I don’t know. He likes books with alternate realities? Oh. This is sort of an alternate reality? Maybe? It’s fine if you don’t buy it. In fact, I won’t even look at you as you make the decision. Stuff like that.
Why do I do it? Why do I go to the signings if they are hard sometimes? A gut fight that I rarely win?
The thing is, it can be heartbreaking. It is heartbreaking. I think it can be heartbreaking even when you do get a big mega deal.
Writing makes us vulnerable. Writing with an audience other than ourselves makes us even more vulnerable. Especially when that audience doesn’t show up or maybe tells us we were wrong or let’s us know they would prefer a million other books over ours. Or maybe even if they do prefer ours.
I think it comes down to your core. What do you really value? What is most important? What can you turn to when the heartbreak happens?
For me? Oh, I don’t know. It’s a constant struggle to keep my head on. To balance all the things I tell myself I have to balance–physically, emotionally and spiritually. But at the end of the day, if all the things start to get heavy, start to fall, which are the ones that I am going to grab for dear life?
That’s what I’m trying to hold on to. To remember, every day.
And besides, what if your heart never broke? What kind of writer would you be then?
Throwing Up Words 