I have no idea what I’m doing

Having no idea what one is doing is no fun, no fun at all. This sensation is one I could definitely do without. How does one market themselves (should we even?) in the writer space? The net space? The cosmos?

Writing fiction is immeasurably easier than deciding what to do and what not to do when creating a web footprint (fingerprint? digital DNA code?). It feels slimy and disingenuous. My kids say I’m cocky, which would seem to be to my benefit for an endeavor like self-promotion, but I find it icky, filled with creepy crawlies, goose pimples, and cooties.

Luckily (absolutely not!), the read count on said self-promoting “gar-bauge,” will be desperately low for the time being. Meaning my embarrassment is much more in my head than in reality. Still, it’s a necessary evil (totally not evil).

I’ve got a Twitter and an Instagram ready to roll. I (of course) have a novel written as well as I’m capable raring to be read. This is the first step, I guess. At least the first step to actually becoming a published author. There’s the whole writing the novel thing, blah blah blah, but that’s easy (NO). This, though, this is tough.

Wow. I never realized how closely those two words look to one another. Though, tough. In some ways, one implies the other, yeah? Though is generally used to suggest disagreement or contrariness. “It was great, though… not great?”

Thus, I’d say writing this blog was easy, though I had no idea what I was doing. You know what? It was kinda tough. Hopefully, I will be excused for my lack of wherewithal in regards to effective blogging and self-promotion in the infancy of my doing so. If not, well, I guess I’ve proven my point.

Touché, moi! Touché.