The Introverted Writer
A new website, a new blog. This blank page is the ultimate in blank pages, so I greet it with far more trepidation than starting a novel. With a novel I have a story to tell, characters I can move around the page, imaginary people I can depend on to amuse and entertain you. This is not a novel. This blank sheet I type on is a lonely place, with only myself for company.
My publisher, Booktrope, has announced its closure, so now I must venture forth on my own – go Indie, relaunch, reinvent – be bold.
“Why am I doing this?” I ask. My inner voice tells me that this is the thing to do, to reach out and create awareness for my novels, to become an interesting person in the eyes of the world, so that you, my potential reader, might be enticed to explore my work. Marketing experts, writers’ blogs – they all push me to reach out and gain a following, become a brand, get known. But, I am an introverted writer, a shy creature who prefers to hide behind much braver souls that inhabit my imagination. They are strong, dynamic, fearless, wonderful alter-egos who possess all of the attributes I would like to own.
Perhaps that is why I write, to experience things I know are beyond my personality. Perhaps that is why you read, to be swept into a make-believe world in which everything is possible. For a while you can grow wings or you can chase the baddies, you can pick up a book and choose to go anywhere you please. The author will transport you; introduce you to types of people and situations you might never meet: and take you on a fabulous journey.
Back with my blank page, I wonder if I, the author, without my supporting cast of imaginary friends, will be enough. There is no dramatic story here, only my fear of timidity and of sounding less than WOW! next to everyone else who leaps onto their page going ra-ra-ra! So I write, and as time passes the story will unfold. It has no plot, only the narrative of an evolving author.
I dare you to press the like button and let me know that you’re there.