It’s taken me so damn long to start a serious blog. Not that this is going to be sooo serious. Ideally, with divine intervention, Alice in Authorland will inspire you to laugh, cry, think and grow rich with authenticity.
See, I’m a writer. It’s the tattoo my soul entered this world with. But, technical crap throws me into my old math anxiety mentality (hell). My brain reacts like Teflon to the technical .
I love how Danielle LaPorte says, “Technophobe? Get over it.” I only love those words because I’m mesmerized by Danielle LaPorte’s voice and spirit.
I get her point. It’s like students who say they “can’t” write or “hate” writing. Usually, they had a bad experience.
I spent weeks learning about WordPress and taking a class from an ass who friended me on Facebook and later asked me out. No matter how charming I acted or how often I showed up early or stayed late in order to get real help building my basic writer website, neither of us got what we wanted. He knew I was playing him and I knew he was playing me. Nobody won.
Here’s my secret shame. Long before that class, I earned an MS in technical communication. Ooh! Ahh! I must be smart! Honestly, for every elective, I selected creative writing. In the actual technical classes, we worked in groups which divided tasks. I always took the writing part, except when I attempted to step up to the technical side. I’d ask for help from one of the techy students. They couldn’t help but take over and I couldn’t help but let them in order to hide my techno shame and secure an A for the group. I shirked my responsibility to myself to learn, create, and navigate what was then referred to as the World Wide Web.
That’s exactly what it felt like to me—a place where I kept getting stuck. I’m not the only one. Right? We keep trying. Tried school. Tried a class. People help with, “Just pay someone to throw up a website.” These same people say, “You’re a writer? Can you make a living doing that?”
Squirm. Shame. Not yet. Fuck you! My ego speaks first. My soul sees the sadness of suckers thirty pounds overweight doing jobs they hate.
So, I pray.
I pray to release my fears, insecurities and shame. I allow my divine desire to write, share my stories and touch hearts. I pray for the right (write) people to step into Alice in Authorland, not just the website, but the world wide web of writing, publishing, marketing and engaging a readership.
I also pray to be open to all kinds of angels along my path. I pray. God giggles and gives answers I never imagined. People arrive. With ideas that both excite and make me bristle.
I learn of some games people play to gain an online following and I’m floored. I don’t want to! I don’t have to! I’m not going to! (Youngest child syndrome.)
We youngest like to say, “You’ll see.” I get the invitation that you have to play to win. So did Augusten Burroughs before he shredded into A Million Little Pieces on Oprah.
I’m not him. I’m Alice Lundy. I’m committed to authenticity to the best of my ability. I despised working for others when they expected me to squelch who I am.
Still, I’d rather get a job than build my brand on the thing I hated most about working for someone else: games. I once had a boss who was infamous for saying, “My game. My ball. My rules.”
Not anymore. I take responsibility for me. I am Alice in Authorland.
Some people suggest I get friends to post rave reviews under multiple pseudonyms. They say, “Everybody does it” and “That’s just how it’s done.”
Didn’t their moms ask them about jumping off the bridge with their friends? No, these suggestions aren’t about banking fraud or political posturing, but I refuse to build my brand based on bullshit. I take it personally to expand through integrity.
If that means I’m short on following or the reviews don’t sound so cute, I’m ok with that.
I’m not cool with pretending. Period. Sure, sometimes I must, but not here, not now. Not with my voice. I want real. Yes, even if it’s real hard and slow to start. But, what if that’s where the bullshit lies?
The truth is in the magic and the miracles, God and angels, and readers who join communities that mirror better. I believe in better.