I’m sitting on the floor of my kitchen watching my son unpack my baking cupboard and listening to some peppy pop music. It’s Friday evening and the sun is going down and my daughter is twirling in endless circles in the kitchen in a red and white stripped dress that I was only able to convince her to wear by telling her it was a candy cane dress.
Most of my list didn’t get done today. Instead we went Christmas shopping in Old Town and had a snack of free popcorn at Ace Hardware. My afternoon “productive” nap time I spent chatting with my sister and drinking a second cup of coffee. I was going to run another errand this afternoon, but changed my mind. Instead deciding to stay home and have a kitchen dance party and to take my time making the pumpkin pancakes for dinner.
I keep wondering if the internet is for me at all. The pace of this modern day and age exhausts me. I wonder if I’m supposed to just be some sort of backwards modern writer that doesn’t blog or use social media at all, but lives in a cave and just writes words…only to emerge with the manuscript that I will send out for publishing. I’m sorry to say but that may just be what I end up deciding at the end of all this. Who knows. All I know is I don’t like playing the game. I don’t really care about views or comments. I don’t really relish the idea of replying to people. In some weird place of my mind this week I started wondering if I’m not really as extroverted as I’ve always assumed.
Or maybe it’s just a weird season. I have always been a home body, but now I enjoy the days when I literally have nothing going on except my household chores and of course, tending to my darling children. (They keep climbing on me as I’m typing this, but yet I keep going. See? I can do this writer thing.)
I’m not sure what my process is going to be. But I think I’ve decided this week that it really is okay if I don’t fit into the modern writer model. I don’t have to have 500 followers and daily blog posts to be a writer. I don’t have to have a regularly updated twitter or lengthy and profound Instagram posts to be a writer. Keeping up with all the social media hubbub steals all my creative energies anyways. After all, if I have something worth sharing. Something worth reading. And if God wants me to write it and other people to read it, then he will show me a way to do it without pouring all my soul energy into keeping up with this internet age.
I know I sound like I’m about 100. But I’ve always been told I’m a bit of an old soul. A traditionalist. A purist. And I certainly don’t want to sound like I’m judging anyone who goes the internet publicity/social media route. After all, what do I know? No books published yet people! And two of my favorite writers have an excellent internet presence. I’m just thinking out loud here. In case you were listening.