Introverts and M&Ms: late night ramblings.

I’m knee deep in the middle of line edits right now and things are starting to happen over here, things that are both amazing and baffling and I’ve been coping by drinking far too much caffeine and wine, eating my weight in M&M’s and listening to The Lumineers on repeat.

I’m not exaggerating.

And because things are happening and my release date is creeping up on me and everything is crazy and awesome and is this really happening right now, I find myself constantly torn between talking about all of the things and talking about none of the things. My poor family and close friends are constantly at risk of having me stop in the middle of a conversation and bust out with something like, “Omg but blog tours” as it is and there’s times I want to jump on every social media site and do the same. But I’m a twitchy thing, very much an introvert, and writing has always been almost a coping mechanism for me. Up until this point, it’s been a very private thing. I do it. I share some of it with friends, select family members, but other than that, it’s me in The Cave, tossing words on paper to stay sane. Writing is such an integral part of who I am as a person, it’s like breathing. I needed to do it so I did but it existed in my life solely for myself. It was my way of holding onto a vital part of myself, a part that I always felt was threatened by my roles of mom, wife, daughter, random neighbor lady down the street who only waves and never makes eye contact. It’s easy to get lost in those roles. Lose yourself to them. And writing was my way of keeping a grasp on me. The girl beyond those things. I’d only ever toyed with the idea of publishing because putting that part of myself out there terrified me. But 2013 was a weird year and somewhere in that year, I decided to go for it. Chase my dreams and all that.


So here I am, with my dream in front of me, people in the cave helping me hone my voice and make my words stab and then that dream is gonna be put out there for other people to see and read and comment on. That’s exciting. That’s thrilling. That’s bloody terrifying. But I want that. I’m out there, I’m in the middle of it, and I’m in for a penny so, screw it, let’s go for the pound. Let’s party. But I have to throw out invitations to the party. I have to promote and network and I have to talk. Holy shit. I have to talk. To people. I have to garner interest in this huge thing that I’ve spent so much time on, poured myself into, and I have to get them excited about it. I have to get them talking about it. But I have to walk a line to do so, because no one wants to be on the receiving end of weird promotional tweets plugging my work shamelessly. And for a girl who’s horrible even talking on the phone, the thought of doing that is daunting. So I eat more M&M’s, turn “Stubborn Love” on repeat, and burrow back into The Cave, because The Cave is good. The Cave is safe.
But I’m learning. I’m taking baby steps. I’m posting on Facebook and I’m making tweets here and there and I’m walking towards other authors, both established and new, and I’m holding my hand out, chanting in my head “keep it cool.” I’m figuring it out, how to do this huge thing, and be out there in the middle of it, talking shop and release dates and cover reveals. I’m looking at the big dogs and watching what they’re doing and taking notes. I chased a dream and it happened and damn it, I’m gonna rise to it. I’m gonna chase that dream hard.
…And I’m gonna keep my wine handy while I do it.



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