Sunday, July 31, 2016

Please, Okay?

I think I made a mistake when I admitted on my blog that I was writing a novel.

The more I think about it, the more I think: yes. That was absolutely a big, dumb mistake.

Who knew that writing a novel would feel like such a private, personal thing? I did not. I wrote about it, initially, because I didn't realize how much I would dislike talking about it to real people. I talked about it to long-distance friends and online people quite a bit, and I really liked that, so maybe I thought talking about it to real, in-person people would feel the same. Maybe I also sort of forgot that people I know actually read my blog - there was a time when the only people who read here were Crystal Kimber and a handful of women from Korea and Scotland.

I still remember the day my dad called after coming across this post somehow, like, "Hi, Suzy. Your mom and I aren't so sure you should be wandering into back alleys on the advice of homemade posters promising you the best time of your life." I should've learned my lesson back then. Not about back alleys - though that is, also, for sure a valuable life lesson that my dad was right about - but about writing things online without expecting that real-life people will read them and then want to discuss them with you.

Because it's really, really nice of people to read here and it's super wonderful of them to take an interest in what I'm doing and ask me questions about it. I'm for sure not mad about it - it would be quite silly of me to put stuff out there and then be mad at people for wanting to talk about it with me.

But if you've ever asked me in real life, "Hey, how's that novel going?" you might have noticed my lips curl back and my eyes cross and my gut suck right in to my spine as I stammer:

"It, uh, it uh, it's...just not. I don't know. I'm busy doing other things. I don't want to talk about it."

And while I'm talking, I'm thinking, This is the most embarrassing thing ever. I don't know what I'm saying. I don't know how to talk anymore. Am I saying, 'Blub blub blub blub?' Like, I can't even admit that I'm working on it. It's so ridiculous. It feels exactly like someone is asking me if I still like to play with Barbies and I'm admitting that, yes, I do like to play with Barbies still and that is what I do with all of my free time lately. Just playing Barbies all day every day. Giving them names and dressing them up and making them marry Ken over and over and over again. Why did I admit to this ON THE INTERNET?

Let's pretend in real life that this whole thing doesn't exist. Please, okay? I am seriously considering publishing it under a pseudonym and never admitting to anyone I know in real life that I did it. It might seem counter-intuitive to bring it up again on here just to say to forget about it, but every time someone asks me The Question in real life I pretty much swallow my nose and turn into a blubbering idiot, so there's zero chance of me tactfully saying, "You know what? I'd prefer not to talk about that at this time - I actually shouldn't have brought it up in the first place."

I would love to know if I am the only person who feels this way. Like, if I'm passionate about something, is it completely weird to also not want to talk about it ever at all? It it weird to want to keep that thing in a completely separate little personality box that I only show to a couple of people and keep away from pretty much everyone else? Blub blub blub blub?