A ‘nothing special’ writer

Dear Diary,

You’re more of a journal than a diary. A diary is where I’d record things like “10:00 meeting with General Kenobi” or “Death Star plans due COB”, probably on a daily basis. Whereas a journal is where I talk about my thoughts, feelings, etc. whenever it suits me. But I enjoy the alliteration of “Dear Diary” so I’m planning to keep saying it. Besides, it’s my blog, I’m gonna call it what I want. πŸ˜€

Now that we’ve established that you’re a journal, let’s talk about my problems. πŸ˜›

Recently, I had a conversation with a colleague that went something like this:

Colleague: “Lee-Ann, I just discovered online that you’re a writer. Tell me more.”

Me: [awkward laughter] “Ah, I’ve dabbled in the occasional short story and was doing some theatre reviews pre-COVID, nothing special…”

I kind of downplayed my writing to my colleague — not because it’s supposed to be a state secret or anything, but because… that’s just how I am? I don’t particularly like talking about myself. Actually, I don’t really like talking at all. Which is going to be an obstacle to any potential success I could have as a writer/author, since I’d have to do my own marketing regardless of whether I’m traditionally or self-published.

But I don’t write because I want to be famous. It’d be great to do well, of course. I’d love for someone out there to connect with my stories. But fame isn’t something that appeals to me.

There’s one reason why I write. For the longest time, it was the only way I was able to express myself. I’ve always been shy, but more than that, I’ve struggled with social anxiety/social phobia for as long as I can remember. So I started writing in a bid to find my voice.

When I say my writing is “nothing special”, I mean… It’s not special because it’s just talking. Except that I don’t talk (much), so I write instead.

It’s up to others to decide if my words are worth reading. πŸ™‚

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