Authors with full-time day jobs aren’t uncommon. Likely more the norm than anything. We toil away at work, whatever that may be, come home, and write. (Or in a different order, but the end result is ultimately the same.)
We work, we write, we blog.
And while I’m lucky enough to have crossover between my full-time job and my writing, it also means that I write all day, write at home, then must somehow look my online presence in the eye. It’s usually more of a side-eye as I attempt to pretend it’s under control.
My brain feels empty, at least when it comes to blogging and social media. What do you say when you’ve said everything necessary? (Apparently you write a blog about your feelings.)
As excited as I get when one of my favorite authors interacts with me on social media, I have increasing respect for authors who guard their free-time.
It’s not easy. Even when you know that blogging and social media aren’t obligations, there’s a voice in the back of your head, telling you it needs to be done if you want to be successful. You must interact, blog once a week, post on social media every day, be magical.
I have a voice that nags at me to do more.
Even as I hop on the couch and turn on Netflix, it’s urging me to drag my laptop with me and say something—anything.
That voice lies. When the word well runs dry, we need to respect it. Pushing content onto the Internet because we think we have to is disingenuous. Anyone wanting to build a platform online, author or blogger, should be intentional with the words she releases in the world.
Don’t rush to fill the void.
A lot of pointless nonsense exists online and in the self-publishing space. You can contribute to it or you can blaze your own path. My participation in all things social media and blogging (even writing, truthfully) has been spotty at best, but it also makes my connections with people all that more authentic—because when I connect, there’s intention behind it.
The hard truth is, no one cares more about how you market or blog or post on social media than you do. And life has a way of interfering. If we don’t listen to its wake-up call (or its empty-brain syndrome), we risk losing sight of why we started writing in the first place.
Taking care of yourself takes care of your mind and takes care of your writing.