Shouting into the Void

True confessions: I subscribe to far more Substacks, blogs, writing sites, daily poems, daily prompts, magazines, news reports, activist mailing lists, and social media groups, than I can possibly keep up with.

So my day begins with a delicate dance of choosing what to read and what to ignore. Actually, I’ve revised my habits so my day begins with a brief meditation followed by 30 minutes of exercise before I even look at the onslaught of text in my email box, but once I’ve opened the lid on my laptop, the rush is on. So many little tentacles of info competing for my attention, and all of them are just a small slice of the wider pie of projects and activities I’ve committed to, not to mention the obligations of maintaining my home, nurturing my family, and being a good friend to the many people who matter to me.

Somehow, I don’t think this issue is uniquely my problem. Likely, many of us are swamped by the competition between our life’s obligations and our desires for how we might want to spend our time. Being rained on by torrents of electronic words only adds to the flood.

So, I get it when I write a blog post and there are absolutely no reactions. But it’s still an eerie feeling–like shouting into the void.

Artist: Sam White; retrieved from newgrounds.com

Does *anybody* hear me? Does *anyone* think what I’m writing is worth listening to? 

Absolutely not, says my inner critic, whom I’ve decided to name Eloise. No one cares about your stupid weekly dribbles.

Should I stop blogging? It could be a relief to take one more thing off my to-do list! 

My initial reason for starting a blog was to do what all authors are told they need to do. The goal–stated by every marketing workshop I attended and every resource I read was to build a platform by acquiring a large degree of subscribers. That never happened, and as I’m not generally someone who plays the long-term patience game, I could have quit after the first year, when my most recent books were considered old news anyway. But the surprising thing was that I found I really liked blogging. Taking the time to think about some tidbit from my life or the wider world and its relationship to the themes I’m passionate about–creative expression and social change–has been invigorating. And trying to encapsulate that thought into a short 500-800 word post has been a formidable and stimulating writing challenge.

Besides, Substack continues to seduce me with a challenge of how many weeks in a row I can post a blog. And this is something I can control, even if I can’t control the number of people in my subscriber base.

What’s also satisfying is the feeling that I’m not just spouting words on paper to an amorphous audience. I’m writing to a bunch of friends, as most of my subscribers are people I know. (And I’d love to meet the rest of you!) Because of that, I’m determined to stay authentically myself and not hide behind some ostensibly wiser but more distant “author mask.” And it tickles me thinking that if you’re able to take some of your very precious time to read some of these musings, it might lead to more connection between us. If you react, or comment, or let me know in some way, then I can feel more connected, too.

Which is why the posts with no reactions at all leave me a bit lonely and off-kilter. But seriously, no shade! I wish I could read every Substack post from every single friend I subscribe to, and I can’t. Though I do try to prioritize reading posts written by friends so that I can get to at least some of them some of the time. And I’m going to make it a point to react more, because I often read and don’t react–out of busyness, or laziness, and now I’m realizing how great it would be if if the void I’m shouting into could echo back. Yes! I hear you!

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