WWJAD

I think all authors have a similar dream. For me it was writing a book followed by a small but vocal readership that would result in a groundswell of readers. It would happen, and this is important, within my lifetime, and I would spend my days going from readings and signings between growing an impressive list. I might also indulge the fantasy that despite not writing mystery novels my life would be very much like Jessica Fletcher’s.

Note that nowhere in that dream do I include, tweeting, posting, snapping, or anything related to social media. I’ve railed about this before, while quietly conforming to the expectations of a 21^st century writer. I started a blog. Created a website. Joined Twitter (may it rest in pieces) and now I’ve joined Instagram. I’m sure some of you are thinking I’m a little late to that, but I believe in fashionable tardiness to most parties.

And yet, as I made the account, ilcruzwrites, I asked myself a question. WWJAD--What would Jane Austen do? Or the Grimm Brothers? Or Dickens? Or any well-known author who doesn’t have to worry about followers or likes.

Well, Austen’s fame grew after her death and the success she knew in her lifetime only came because she published anonymously and at her own risk (i.e. indie publishing).

The Grimm Brothers also toiled in obscurity for a time and only gained traction with each subsequent edition that was tweaked each time to appeal to children (i.e. rewrites based on reader notes).

Dickens was famous for holding readings in Europe and North America to widen his audience (the social media of its day).

By Charles A. Barry

And so I continue, indie publishing, getting beta readers, and trying to use social media to market and find that small but dedicated readership that will make my dreams come true.

Now I just have to learn how to use Instagram. Any thoughts?

The Goldilocks Problem

So, I finally did it. I’ve joined Twitter. I resisted for a long time because deep down I don’t really enjoy social media. Oh, there are bright spots—those rare days when I get real comments from other bloggers and readers—but mostly, I consider it a chore. It’s something I do for my career, like peeling, cutting and cooking apples (painful tedium) and ending up with delicious homemade chunky applesauce.I decided on Twitter because, like a blog, it’s basically text-based. I don’t have to specially curate photos of impossibly beautiful food or tear-jerking sunsets or create videos of cats (that I don’t own). Now I have a Goldilocks problem.What is a Goldilocks problem, you ask? It’s deciding what’s just right. Not too much, not too little. When I started blogging, I thought it best to post only when I had something to say. I quickly learned that I have plenty to say, but little I want to share. Therefore, I had to create a schedule. Once a week was all I could muster. The thought of tacking on another commitment, set my teeth on edge. Am I alone?But now that I’m a published author (!) I know I must work on marketing in all forms. Also, this solitary profession makes one crave community. Twitter has become the Wild West and adds to my trepidation, but I’m hoping to find my own civil corner. And if the bears come home and scare me from my cozy bed, I’ll leave just as quickly as Goldilocks.In the meantime, feel free to say hello @ILCruzWrites.

Trudging up literary hill with Jane Austen

I hate exercise. At least I hate the after effects. I'm fine with taking long walks, hiking, and the occasional dance off in my living room. But I really don't like sweating. It's a real handicap when sweat is the proof that exercise is working. After a summer of trying my best to avoid the heat (to little effect), I'm trying to get back into exercising, but for now it's an uphill battle.It's the same with writing. If I ever needed proof that it's a muscle, I've got it now. Marketing has been plaguing me for the past month or so. It's been rather consuming (writing blog posts, creating ads on Goodreads, keeping tabs on sales, fighting with the printer because of a 0.0625 differential on the cover art, etc.) and therefore has blocked out any semblance of a writing regiment. I vowed when school started for my daughter, I would let marketing go on autopilot for at least a week or two and get back to my much-needed rewrites for my novella, The Cemetery Circle (due out mid-October in time for the Halloween season). It's hard to switch gears.But I've been fighting to get back. The hill keeps getting steeper and more daunting. Doubts creep in... Did I lose my skills? Are my ideas viable? Do I remember all my characters' names? Are sentences ending in prepositions really the end of the world?I'm sure you've been there before. Maybe it wasn't writing. Maybe it was exercise or a reading challenge. And the only advice I have is to start small. I have to embrace the little victories in order to work up to the big triumphs. I write in workbooks with writing prompts. I use the back of Jane Austen postcards to write flash fiction and poetry. Once I start trudging up that hill, my legs remember how to find their footing faster. Breathing gets easier and I remember to enjoy the scenery.And when all else fails I pull out my postcard and read dear Jane's (because, in my mind Jane Austen and I are friends) advice:"I am not at all in a humor for writing; I must write on till I am."