Why, yes. It’s been a minute since I’ve sat with you here.
I’ve been saying quite a bit over on the Insta, instead. I am flummoxed as to how I should handle all this. I’ve blogged for 13 years, and interest has waned considerably in the last five. Algorithms, short attention spans, and social media feed addictions come into play, I’d say.
“Write more and they will show up”, folks said. But the more I wrote, the less people visited, so I’m wondering about it all now. (And the quality of what I produce! Maybe THAT’s the issue!) 😉
I prefer the space blogs afford us, but I also appreciate the convenience of not having to click the “link in my bio” to read a full piece.
Like a typical Enneagram 4 wing 3, I am at war with myself as to how I should handle what I offer. The 4 wants to be authentic, peaceful, unassuming, and unique when it comes to my writing life. The 3 wants to be successful in it. The rub is, these days, you have to cajole and market to make it. I want to write honestly and offer it humbly, without the “tag 5 friends and like all my posts for the last month to be entered into a giveaway” approach. I like offering things that people can just come and feed from. Free of charge. And free of manipulative tagging.
But at the very same time, I want to be legit. I’d like to contribute to our family’s purse. I’d like to really DO the thing. So here I am at the crux.
I’ve reached out to several agents/agencies and thus far no one is interested in what I bring to the publishing table. I don’t have enough followers, I can’t illustrate my own books, I can’t guarantee sales, I’m not an expert at anything, I refuse to buy subscribers, I don’t have the gumption to interrupt the peace I try to sew into my feeds for a self-led massive marketing campaign.
“It’s just the way it is now, Katie. Be willing to go this route, or give it up.”
I can’t get okay with that.
Right now, I am sitting on my sunny deck with a pot of pink roses to my right and chew toys to my left. Just inside the deck door there is a Westmoorland vase holding a bouquet of Iris’. This is poignant, as the first thing I ever offered up to an agent was a children’s book entitled “The Eye of an Iris”. I submitted it the day my close friend Carrie was buried and I couldn’t be there due to a child’s illness. She championed my words and would have wanted me to do the brave thing of submitting, so I did.
Nothing came of it. Interestingly enough, the Iris’ on my round table seem to have stopped just short of blossoming. They have been stuck in this half-bloom stage for a few days now. The Iris’ I used to purchase from the H-E-B in Katy, TX always opened up fully and right away. I wrote my little children’s book as I stared at them on our old hand-me-down Amish supper table. But these seem to be stunted, unable to produce a full flourish. Ah, the metaphors abound!
Meanwhile, I am a bit broken in body as I type this with my back up straight so that my tailbone doesn’t touch the base of my seat. If it does, I will have excruciating pain as I try to stand again. My neck is crunched and my legs go numb and the strain on the rest of my body as I try to protect this tail of mine has taken a massive toll. Imaging and all manner of care from kind professionals has yet to produce a cure. So, if I am to continue writing in a long form manner, I will need a standing desk. It’s a bit of a deterrent right now.
This is where I am. Half-blossomed, half-broken, and wholly unsure where to land and stand when it comes to writing/blogging/careering. Other than that, I am feeling thankful these days – for a home I have come to love, a husband who pursues me, a body that still allows me to do a bunch of great things, and for all this glorious sunshine!
I just wanted to share with you today, as I had a moment before the afternoon school and sports shuffle ensues.
Blessings to you.