I'm not the biggest fan or expert of social media. However, I've been discovering more and more that my social media presence is crucial to gain exposure to my writing. This probably seems like an obvious revelation to my fellow writers and readers, but I am just warming up to the idea. For a long time, it was difficult for me to believe my ideas and opinions relevant or interesting to my followers.
Social media is a strange beast that can create jealousy, unfair comparisons, and selfishness. However, when tamed, this same beast can foster understanding, motivation, and compassion. When another writer or reader comments on my writing, which they usually have discovered through social media, I feel a surge of validation and happiness, even if the comment is critical.
As a writer, I do not write for the validation or the audience, but rather for a need to release the stories inside of me. But I would be lying to myself if I dismissed the importance of validation and an interested reader. Good writing is meant to be read, whether by millions or a single person.
Through social media, I and thousands of other aspiring writers find our readers, maintain our confidence, share our stories.
What are your opinions of gaining exposure through social media? In what ways have you done so? Do you agree with my belief that writing is meant to be read? Please comment with your answers!
Thanks for reading!
Sometimes I write that amazing story and come up with a perfect title right away. Everything just falls into place; the title fits my story and its characters as if the writing gods themselves chose it especially for me. But most of the time, I don't.
Most of the time I struggle for hours to find a title, going through ones so stupid that they can't even be mentioned in this blog post. Sometimes finding a perfect title is like finding something to rhyme with orange: it's impossible (unless, of course, I make up a word).
But all the frustration, heartache, and tears suddenly become worth it when THE title comes to my brain. I could be walking to class or talking to a friend when it hits me, sudden and hard like a punch to chest. THE title.
And like that, my story is finished. Not neatly, of course, because I hate when writers wrap everything in a neat little bow. Please feel free to kick me if I ever do that. And not perfectly. Just finished.
Then I can breathe. Until I write another story and it begins all over again.