The irony is that when it comes to sharing online, I am constantly flip-flopping between two ends of a spectrum. On one hand, I’m terrified of sharing my writing, on the other, I’m more than happy to barrage my instagram following with an onslaught of photos after too many wines on the weekend. I like to think of this the next day as my way of showing gratitude for the good things in my life but it’s really just a very public photo album that probably doesn’t need to be seen.
While I was listening to ‘A Bit Fruity’ with Matt Bernstein the other day, specifically the episode “Why Nikki Minage threw it all away for fascism,” the co-host Olay was talking about how back in the 90s and early 2000s, there was mystique around female rappers, and that was part of the allure to them. In contrast to now, they are going on what she describes as twitter ‘coke-binges’ to take a swipe at their latest nemesis. She said, and I have to agree that – this phase of celebrity is far less appealing than back in those days – when the artists you looked up to were less accessible. People do not need that kind of access to your life.
Over the new years period, I watched a lot of the ‘ins and outs’ reels on instagram. I have to admit, I don’t mind them. I find it interesting reading people’s goals and ideas for the new year, but it’s also good to connect with people’s outs’ which I guess is the trendy way of expressing what we once called our new year’s resolutions. One particular reel I saw showed an ‘in’ from an influencer whom I hold in some esteem, and it stated that ‘chronic oversharing’ was back ‘in’. I think the justification was the vein of ‘stop worrying about what people think’. I am me, hear me roar vibes, you know what I’m talking about.
It struck a chord with me and I first thought the answer this year would be to share more about my personal life on instagram as a way of coaxing myself out of the state of failure I was in as a writer. Upon reflection of this in my recent weeks of unemployment, I’ve come to realise that the best way to stop being afraid of what people think of my writing is just to do the bloody thing and get it out there.
My real self isn’t snaps of me on holidays and various stages of intoxication shared many months after the fact. I know I’ll be successful in sharing my joy if I take the time to write stories online that mean something to me. It’s been a week since my first post, and so far I’ve had one view(mum), who told me yesterday she couldn’t even see the post. For now, I’m going to remain elusive on the gram and put my energy here where it belongs. One post every Friday, I might even share this with someone else this week.
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