How can I become as wise and as focused as this old owl when I always seem so scattered?
I’m starting to feel quite overwhelmed. Actually, I think I feel more dislodged than overwhelmed. Getting involved with social media, so far, has been interesting and a lot of fun. But I’m not sure that’s who I am. I think I’m more the person I talked about in my last post, How I Ready Myself.
And the scary thing is that I could easily see myself getting addicted to surfing all those really interesting posts I’m finding. For sure I’d want to join most of the writing groups and most of the photography groups. And if they had photography groups exclusively dedicated to Nikon’s 50 mm f/1.2 lens, as Flickr does, I’d want to join them all.
But when would I write? When would I be able to spend time in that zone where my conscious mind and my unconscious mind overlap, that zone where I wait quietly for the little kid to bring me notes about my next novel?
I sure don’t want to fail that kid. And I definitely don’t want to fail myself.
I feel absolutely comfortable in that zone, absolutely at home? And that’s where I need to be.
Hence, the two big questions are, I suppose: Do I want to write? Or do I want to be a writer? Do I want to say Yes to the one thing? Or do I want to scamper after the many.
Right now I’m working really, really hard at being a writer. But as a result, I’m doing very little writing. And I’m not sure I like how that feels.
As well as working on my website, I now have accounts with Facebook, Google+, Twitter, LinkedIn, and Tumblr. And I’m considering Goodreads. Apparently, I’m supposed to have all these accounts, so I can let people know I have a novel they might enjoy reading.
And those accounts also help optimize my website for the search engines.
Earlier on, I talked about this being a journey from finishing my first novel to having it published. And I’m starting to wonder now if that kind of journey, for me, is a bad idea.
Originally, I had planned to put my novel on the Internet and simply give it away to anyone who happened to find it. And I intended to suggest that people who enjoyed reading it might consider making a contribution to a charity of their choice instead of sending me anything.
I don’t have a lot of money, but I don’t feel I need any more. I’m quite a bit like BJ, one of the characters in my novel, who’s just moved in with Charlie:
That evening, over a beer, he commented on how little she’d brought with her.
“I’ve told you before, Charlie, I don’t like to own things. If I own things, I have to maintain them. And pretty soon it feels as if those things own me. They take my time and attention.
“That’s why I’ve always rented furnished apartments.
“I don’t know. I just feel freer without things, other than the tools I need for my job, of course. And that 50 mm lens you keep teasing me about.
“I don’t have any jewelry or paintings, for example, so I don’t have to insure them. And I don’t have to worry about losing them or having them stolen.
“And that’s freedom, Charlie. For me, at least. Not being tied to things.”
She paused and smiled at him. “Recognize it? Recognize my favorite Rhodes Scholar? Freedom? Not being afraid of losing things?”
He smiled and nodded. Bang on. His old buddy, KK. And hers too? Weird.
She knew he knew, and she was pleased.
“The things you own soon own you. I really believe that.”
But maybe I should just keep working with social media until March 23. Then I can get back to writing. At that time, they tell me, maintaining my media accounts should only take a half hour or so each day if I have them set up properly. I think I could live with that.
But of late, I’ve been thinking more and more about people like Vivian Meyer and Emily Dickinson.
And in my next post I’d like to tell you why I’ve been doing that.
(© 2017 Glenn Christianson. All rights reserved.)
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