There’s a fine balance between writing and marketing yourself.
Actually for me, there’s hardly any balance at all.
I think I talk about myself too much. Scratch that. I KNOW I talk about myself too much, but I do it because I’m conditioned to.
I started a new Facebook page and now I have another pothole to fill up with Ericka goodness when I all want to do is write and take a nap and nap and write a little and then maybe see my family and let my dogs outside to piss.
So here’s what I’m going to allow myself: a cozy little room on the Internet. This space, the FB, the twitter, and all the other noise I’m churning out on a daily basis doesn’t have to be gargantuan. It can be small and warm and reflect me perfectly without boasting five different floors. The windows can be dirty, the tile cracked, as long as it contains my honest heart.
I’ve created a beautifully crafted Internet house for myself, practically a mansion, with Tipsy Lit. It’s bigger than anything I ever thought possible and seems to be growing every day. And when I think of building my brand as an author to, at the very least, rival what I (and countless others…believe me) have done with TL, I get exhausted and cranky and want to make that nap thing happen as fast as humanly possible.
I’m tired of talking about myself. Sometimes, I’m tired of myself in general. So what I want to offer are my stories, my beautifully broken characters. Letters and lines mouthed into sounds that have nothing to do with me.
Because frankly, I’m tire of the “m” word.