It's Awkward Moments Day.
Which feels appropriate, because I am currently living inside one.
Here's the thing about being a person who makes things — stories, drawings, blog posts, music, photography, general chaos — there comes a moment where you have to tell people the thing exists.
And that moment is, without exception, the most awkward moment of the entire process.
Worse than the blank page. Worse than the bit where you're not sure if it's actually any good. Worse, somehow, than all of it combined.
Because making the thing is just you and the thing you're making. Telling people about the thing is you, the thing, and every set of eyes that might look at it and think Oh, she thinks she's great, does she? Let's set the record straight.
She does not, for the record, think she's great. Not even close. Not even a duck looking calm on the surface with legs paddling like mad. She is a reclusive weirdo who talks about herself in 3rd person to even get this into readable form. She is in fact currently hiding behind a blog post about awkward moments almost hoping nobody notices.
This is the RSD gremlin's specialist subject.
It doesn't stress you out about heights, or spiders, or things that go bump in the night. It does this. The moment between finishing something and sharing it. It sets up camp there and it does not move.
It whispers things like:
What if nobody cares?
What if they do care and then you have to talk about it?
What if they think you think you're something you're not?
What if you trip on the way to the podium and nobody even notices the thing you made because you've got grass on your knees and a face like a beetroot?
It is, I will grudgingly admit, very thorough.
So here is where we are.
A post with no images because images are potentially searchable. RSD isn't even allowing that in case the clever buggers are reading and know how to google image search.
There are books. Actual, real, physical books, with pages and words and illustrations and everything. They exist. I made them. I created a world in readable format and manifested as physical items. Against everything I ever planned or assumed, I am now an author. I am unreasonably proud of them and also completely unable to tell you about them today because the RSD gremlin has the keys and I haven't managed to wrestle them back yet. I mean, that git can MOVE when it wants to.
Also - of course they're appearing in a cattywompus order. Book 3 arrived before book one, and 2 is ongoing until the phrasing of the closing line comes to me. 👉👈
(See previous post for how that goes when someone else has the keys. At least this time there's no lamp post involved.)
But I'm working on it.
As soon as I find a way to ninja myself past the gremlin currently sitting on my chest making detailed notes about everything that could go wrong — I'll share properly.
Today though?
Today the awkward is winning.
And that, if nothing else, at least feels honest.