For quite some time, I’ve been encouraged by family and close friends to write a book/write more blog posts/JUST WRITE SOMETHING, and so I’m here and I’m writing more – even if it’s ridiculous – and I’m putting myself out there, because I guess, like anything, if you hear it suggested enough, you start to maybe sorta believe it’s worth a shot.
Peer pressure, probably. (You guys rule.)
And so, a couple of weeks ago, I fired off an email – a sales pitch of sorts – to a relatively well-known website, in hopes that they would email me back and that I’d live happily ever after doing something (else) I love.
Polishing my nails, taking some photos, writing about stuff.
Basically all the things I do now, just with a little compensation.
They haven’t gotten back to me yet and I’m doing my best to not freak out because whatever, but putting myself out there is pretty terrifying.
There’s a certain safety in my dusty, little, unread corner of the Internet that I very much love and would very much miss if I had to leave it behind. Because the world is scary. And the world wide web is even scarier.
There’s like, rejection and stuff out there. And every time I’m told that I post too many pictures or that I have too much time on my hands, I’m reminded that I don’t quite have the skin for that.
So I’m sitting here, wanting that thicker skin, thinking that maybe they won’t email me and that’s going to have to be ok. Maybe they found writers waaaay more qualified/intelligent/wittier than I – an easy task, no doubt. Or, who knows, maybe I need a chill pill (per usual) and they’ll get back to me one day when I least expect it. And then I can stress about something else entirely! Like “uuugghhh, my actual writing will never live up to how cool I tried to make myself sound in the bio I sent them!”
You know, things like that.