Ssh, It's a Secret

Blogging is challenging for me. Revealing myself three hundred to five hundred words at a time is not something that comes natural to me. If blogging wasn’t part of the territory of being a modern author (We can’t all be Elena Ferrante.) I probably wouldn’t be doing it. I’m a guarded, private person. I peg way out on the analytical and introverted extremes of any type preference scale you care to administer. I will never be a memoirist. My novels are not confessionals or autobiographies. I create fictional worlds in which I bring order to chaos, unravel puzzles, set wrongs to right, and make sure good triumphs in the end. I don’t get the urge to overshare that seems ubiquitous these days. I’m not the person in line at the grocery store telling the cashier (and everyone else within earshot) about my recent surgery/recent ex/recent fight with a co-worker while the cashier rings up my produce. I have no urge to exorcise my demons or air my laundry on social media. I’d rather post snarky memes and cute animal videos. I recently wrote a paper for a course I’m enrolled in. I received it back with a high mark but with a comment to the effect the instructor wished I had shared more about myself and been less “legalistic” in tone—first person instead of third. My (unspoken) response was I don’t know you, therefore, “me” is none of your business. If you believe in astrology, this is apparently a common stance among Scorpios. But in this modern, hyperconnected, global community we live in privacy is an increasingly rare commodity. Sharing oneself with others is increasingly the norm. So I’ll keep working on the blogging and working on being more open. I’m still going heavy on the animal videos on social media, though.

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