It’s not that I lack the understanding on how to do
it. It’s more that I have a problem with not thinking people care about what I
have to say.
Which is true, and so completely wrong it’s not
funny.
But I’m a no one until my book actually gets
published, and until I have a cover, or an idea on when I’m about to be published, then maybe I’d be willing
so say you’ll blink twice in my direction. As I am now, I’m nothing but a name
and a happy smile on my face because I’ve signed a contract.
It’s not that I don’t understand the whole thing (publicising,
that is, I jumping back—that’s me, in the flesh). You get people talking. You do
this, you do that. You make friends. You talk to, about, comment, engage.
I get all this. I do. But as a person that has live
a life of dumbness, for no better a word, I find that now, even though I’ve
risen from that past, and used my own weakness to an advantage in something I couldn’t even
imagine I’d be able to do, but, five years ago.
It’s hard, putting myself out there, with my own
voice.
Still…