How Do You Put Yourself Out There When It Doesn’t Feel Great?

John Green, bestselling author of novels like Looking for Alaska and The Fault in Our Stars, once said: “Writing is something you do alone. It’s a profession for introverts who wanna tell you a story but don’t wanna make eye contact while telling it.”

I’ve always seen myself as an introvert. I feel much more comfortable in one-on-one situations than in big groups. It’s easier to talk to other people when there are only two of us, and most weekends, I feel the need to take a day or two to recharge my battery. I look at people who gain energy from interacting with others with great envy.

Somehow, I chose teaching and writing as the two things I wanted to do with my life. Teaching is arguably one of the most extroverted-dominated professions in America, maybe outside of sales. Teachers are on display, performing for hours at a time every single day, and I can’t tell you how many of my colleagues stop by my room during breaks just to chat about their day.

Writing, on the other hand, is an introverted profession. It’s for people who quietly observe the world and then log those observations into their writing. John Green said it perfectly in the above quote. We want to tell you a story, but we don’t want you to judge us for telling it.

This is why I find what I am doing now so anxiety-inducing. I’m not one for social media. My personal Instagram has had five posts in the last two years—one for my brother’s birthday, one for my girlfriend’s graduation, and one when my grandfather passed away. I recently posted on Facebook, looking for beta readers for my novel, and it was my first post in five years. I don’t like putting myself out there, especially not to strangers or people I’m not close with.

Yet, as I attempt to market the upcoming release of my novel, I need to put myself out there. I blog every day, created a Twitter to engage with readers and other writers, and share my website on my personal social accounts. Every time I hit “post,” a wave of anxiety rushes through my veins, my arms tingle, and my heart beats faster than it did just moments before.

The themes in my novel scare me. It’s a story about identity, about finding meaning and purpose, about addiction and the cyclical nature of self-destruction. It’s introspective and gritty, filled with all the troubles of modern life. That scares me. The thought that readers, in just a few months, will gain insight into the way I view the world frightens me—but I do it anyway. Because I’m a writer. That’s what we do.

I know I titled this blog, “How Do You Put Yourself Out There When It Doesn’t Feel Great?” But I’m sorry to say I don’t have a great answer to that question. All I know is that I’m going to keep doing it, regardless of the anxiety it brings. I’m going to publish my novel, and some people will love it while others might hate it, and that’s okay. That’s life. You take the good with the bad.

As Dory said in Finding Nemo, “Just keep swimming.”

Whalers debuts in early 2025. Stay tuned for the cover reveal, coming soon.