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).