Ashamed of Self-Promotion

Like many kids, I once dreamed of being a famous singer. I even wrote a song that I thought was certain would be a smash. I belted it out nonstop in my bedroom. My dream lasted approximately two days.

The dream didn’t die after I realized that I had trouble singing “Happy Birthday” in tune: It ended when I realized I could never self-promote. I didn’t tell anyone about my dream. I simply thought I would “be discovered.” Even though I refused to sing aloud, someone would simply look at me my pigtails and mismatched threads and decide I was destined to be the next Whitney.

Although I no longer daydream about being a diva, I still struggle with self-promotion. I went months without even telling anyone I had a blog. I blogged about Chicago Children’s Fitness for a few months last year, but stopped because my money was directly linked to my number of hits. It may sound crazy and I know it’s part of the point of writing, but I just couldn’t get myself to tell people to read what I wrote. I love writing, and love hearing people say that they like what I write—I just don’t leading. I’m trying to break out of that mindset (and also trying to actually understand Twitter in the process), but I don’t want to be an aspiring Ashton anytime soon.

Sharing embarrassing stories on this blog doesn’t faze me, yet telling people to check out what I wrote does. Isn’t it Ironic…dontcha think? (You’re welcome for now getting that song stuck in your head).


2 thoughts on “Ashamed of Self-Promotion

  1. I can totally identify with this one…and I am a total introvert (or as Emma would say “anti-social”) so this is pretty much a daily challenge for me. I guess the way I try to look at it is not so much as self-promotion, but as sharing your ideas and your writing. Or in the least, just simply offering it to others. If they don’t like it, drats. But if they do, great!

    By the way, I was totally going to become a singing sensation too. And I thought I’d never even have to sing in front of anyone before they’d sign me a contract and BOOM! I’d be performing at Madison Square Garden. My stage persona would be a sultry latina, named Karina Colada. Seriously.

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