Privacy vs. Publicity

Publishing my novel, Chemical Attraction, has been by far the toughest goal I’ve ever accomplished. Tougher yet is pushing myself into the digital world when I’d rather write and hide in my warm comfy office with my Keurig. Public attention is uncomfortable and downright painful for me.

Last month at lunch with my husband, Kraig, I was stressed over promoting and marketing. What else should I be doing? “If you knew you’d get all those rejections and then have to go out and promote, would you still have written your novel?” he asked.

“Well, yeah.” These characters had been calling out to me to tell their story for a long time.

He grinned. It’s maddening when he puts my distress in perspective so easily. It still didn’t help me with my dilemma until he joked, “Hurry up. I want to retire early.”

I was miffed and called him out. “Then why don’t you help me?”

“I’m supportive. Isn’t that enough?” he replied.

“Yes, you are supportive, and, no, it’s not enough especially if you want to retire someday.”

As you can imagine, our conversation got a little more heated with “It’s your book. You go out and promote. I’ll be here when you get home.” Grr. So “we” decided that as long as Kraig didn’t have to make a speech and stand in front of a crowd, he’d help.

Well, first of all, if I had a crowd who came to hear me talk about my book, of course, I’d do it. I’d vomit before hand, but I’d do it. Second, Kraig, my loveable curmudgeon, is even more private than I am. He enjoys his own company with fishing, hunting, and reading—those loner activities. Without ever stepping outside his world, he’s uncomfortable by association to mine. Harrumph.

I suggested he start a blog to help me promote. His response: “I can’t type. Why don’t you blog?”

“What do I have to say? You’re the one who has an opinion on everything.”

He agreed that he did, so I suggested Twitter. “It’s only a couple of sentences at the most—perfect for your hunt-and-peck style of typing.”

Well, he didn’t say no outright. I was making progress. We needed to learn more about it. “Andrea (our daughter) tweets. We can ask her for help,” I suggested.

Her response, by the way, was “Oh my God, you’re going to wreck Twitter.”

One step forward, two steps back.

After another week of subtle pushing, Kraig said, “Fine, but you can’t moderate what I say and how I say it.”

“Fine,” I replied. “Please spell check.”

“What’s spell check?”

Groan. I think I’ve mentioned before that he knows how to push my buttons, like the time he suggested killing off Matt Connor from Chemical Attraction, and then making me cry over how to do it. Sigh.

Finally, after long “discussions,” my husband is now on Twitter. How does that help me? I don’t think people care what I think. My characters are fun and exciting; I’m not. However, Kraig has a unique point of view as the husband of a writer. How are other couples handling the “passion” of their writing spouses?

Maybe this will work, maybe I’ll die of embarrassment, or maybe our experiment will end in divorce. One thing is for sure we’re stepping out of our comfort zone—but we’re doing it together.

To see what we’re up to, check out @KraigPOV on Twitter.

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