Updated: Jan 5
As a newbie author, I'm not a fan of marketing. Yesterday I had an especially bad day with it.
Part of me felt like I was being thrown into the middle of the ocean with only a flimsy lifejacket--that I was expected to first figure out my bearings as far as knowing which direction to swim and then to swim with the hope of reaching shore, any shore.
I have learned that writing is a good way to process. For me, that often takes a poetic form. So, this morning I wrote a poem--from an inverted nonet to a nonet (In an attempt to get a shark-like, or at least a fish-like shape). Warning: It's not a happy poem.
off, no one knows.
Yet, I'm here--maiden
author, abandoned; a--
drift on wave upon wave of
marketing madness. Miniscule
me, sinking, safe haven not in sight.
"Swim," they say. "Swim to the blissful shore
of sales and success--of landed
dreams and delight." But no. I
find myself lost on this
ocean. Point of no
for sharks to
*Point Nemo--the point in the ocean that is the farthest away from any point of land.
While I know I'm NOT alone on my author/marketing journey, sometimes it feels like it--especially when my emotions are prickling just below the skin, waiting for a chance to surface. And yes, that's where my emotions have been for a few weeks. Thus, my poem vent.
But what about hope? Don't I always write about hope. Hmmm. Hope is a vulnerable act. So, I write my feelings. My frustration. My hurt. My ugly. You can judge me if you want. God doesn't. And there's the rub--there's the hope.