The Shy Tribe

Almost all the writers I know personally are introverts. Few of us were tailor-made to "be public." But the very act of seeking readers means putting our inners out.

My not-writer friend (I’ll call her Alma) told me she had always imagined writers wrote for themselves. I disagree. Those who write for themselves have drawers full of diaries and manuscripts. But if a writer is seeking publication, they are not writing for themselves. We want to engage. We want you to know us through our characters.

In other words- we are a living oxymoron. {Some would say we are the other kind of moron, but that’s another post.}
 

I remember how very awkwardly awful it felt when my first publisher told me they expected me to have a website. The editor offered to help me develop it. But his vision was wa-a-ay too scary for me, so in a defensive move I quickly put up what I thought was a palatable version I could live with. It helped that DD made it as a holiday gift. It took her all of two hours, and there it, or I, was.
 

But then, OY. I was on the Internet. I mean my name and my picture. I had trouble sleeping that night.

Alma said it was nice, though. To me it felt like an aging dame in a bad wig wearing rickety stiletto heels. Sort of like a Rula Lenska, if anyone remembers her. But Alma, who had a non-writerly website for years, assured me few people will ever look at or see the site.
While this sounds contradictory, it was a soothing thought.
 

Other shy writers told me they had the same funny feeling, but got used to it. They too confirmed that few will visit the site, and I was safely still pretty private. One likened it to wearing a wristwatch or a wedding band, and forgetting about it.
 

Gradually it happened to me also. I not only got used to wearing my modest site, but my second publisher, who encouraged blogging, got a veteran “webby.” I can confirm that you get used to it and, because few people visit, you can maintain the illusion that you are still in your slippers and pajamas.

Wait a minute, I actually am.

[It occurs to me that maybe the explosion in self-publishing isn't just a function of digital publishing, but also of the option of digital promotion. Our Shy Tribe can now put our selves out there from the privacy of our attic, and pretend to ourselves we are not really doing it.]
 

And Alma is convinced I secretly love it all. Maybe she knows something. Overcoming any fear is rewarding.