self promote

Conclusions abound this week. A realistic threshold as I launch into a new year. January is the harshest of months. And this particular one is on par.

I have discovered that to achieve some of the things I’d like, I must stretch myself. I must self promote.

What do I mean? Well, I want my writing to consist of more than a blog. I want to expand my horizons. Take it as far as I can. Not exactly sure what that means today, I do know I most likely need to access more readers. And to do so, I must put myself out there more. Push for people to read what I write. Do more than just one post each on three forms of social media.

I have other, shall I label them goals? Though my Etsy shop amounted to a dismal failure, I still hold out hope I can create something and in turn sell that something to someone. In order to do so, again, I must self promote. I must broadcast to the world, or at least a group of hopefully interested people, that I have something to share.

I’m not the best at tooting my own horn. I feel as though I’m fairly confident in my abilities. I know (maybe?) what I’m capable of. I am old enough to know what I’m good at. And not.

I know people and of people who are successful, mainly due to their own self promotion. And I have at times judged them for that. Wrongly, I’m sure. Anyone who wants to make money off of something she has created, as in art, music, written words…must accept she has to, to an extent, say, “hey…look at me and my work!”.

A quick glance tells me that those who do the things I’m interested in doing, self promote. They work on their presentation. They post photos of themselves at times. They model their own wares despite the fact they do not necessarily look like the typical fashion model. They put on lipstick and take a selfie. I am more than slightly uncomfortable doing this.

The church I’m a part of held an open mic night recently. I read some of my work. It was a good experience. An interesting one, in that I have played piano in front of people, off and on, since I was…9 years old? And I rarely get nervous. I wasn’t especially nervous to share my writing, but it was different in that I actually wrote it. It was my work, coming from my experience and heart. And while it was not at all an unsafe or judgmental environment, everyone listening had an opportunity to decide their opinion.

I suppose that’s the crux of it. Other peoples opinions. How people will respond. Or not. What if I’m ignored? Unsuccessful? What if there is criticism? What if? What if? What if? All the what ifs.

Voices sting. As does silence. And putting oneself or ones work on display is a risk. Yet much of what’s created needs to be shared. Valued. Accessed. Note I didn’t type assessed. Two different words there.

My daughter told me my word for 2018 should be BOLD. Not an easy word. Rather extreme. How does one exemplify boldness? Sure, I know the meaning of the word. But I need to learn how to live it. Or just be. Bold.

The word I had {sorta} chosen for myself is GRACE. In the sense of giving myself grace. To not be perfect. Or someone I’m not. So perhaps, just maybe, I should combine the two and be bold in giving myself grace and give myself grace in allowing myself to be bold. One more time….

be bold in giving myself grace

give myself grace in allowing myself to be bold


I like that. I suppose I should say, “here’s to the self promoters” if I’m gonna have to be one.

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