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Your risky is showing

27 Sep

I consider Wednesday’s post an epic fail. Not just because it was received with mostly silence, but also because I wrote some dramatic blog posts on Wednesday and what I posted was the only thing I could salvage from the wreckage.

I was all woe is me. And all my posts read feel bad for meeeee. Horrible.

Through this epic failure, which in all honesty is giving too much credit to the failure, I realized intimately that writing is risky.

Every tweet, every post, every word is an expression of ourselves and we have no idea how people are going to respond.

We don’t know if someone will take our words out of context (this is the one that scares me the most). Or if we’ll go viral for the one rant that managed to slip through when we’ve been nice and pleasant for 256 days straight.

Even in our books we never know what’s coming out subliminally. We’re revealing the depths of our hearts with words and we have no idea if people will cringe.

This is the long way of saying I think you’re brave. You’re brave for writing. You’re brave for stepping outside the safe box of anonymity and into the scary endless space that is public domain.

I don’t think I’m brave. I’m just scared. Scared I’ll say the wrong thing. Scared something I don’t like very much about myself will spill blood over the pages of my blog.

I’m a wimp.

You’re brave. You’re risky. You’re a rebel (you’re welcome… highest compliment!). You dare to reveal yourself to the world and you take no prisoners with your candor.

I’m in awe of you. I want to be like you. Instead I’m a scared rabbit hiding under my desk. Peeking out only when I need food, drinks, or the occasional conversation (or carrots).

It’s comfortable down here under the desk. I get to live with delusions of grandeur and delusions of safety. I have a nice fleece blanket, fuzzy socks, and my dog. My husband occasionally visits me and I have my computer to pay bills.

Fuzzy socks, romance novels, Kinley Baker, Romance author, fleece blanket, under desk, hiding, risky, bravery

I forgot to mention the pink fleece pants and romance novels, but I assure you they’re there.

I’m good.

Even when I tell myself I’m good, I know… I’m just scared. Not brave.

The internet is full of brave people of all ages and backgrounds speaking messages that need to be spoken. Sometimes they get lost in the noise. But it’s still important. And I want you to know, at least one person thinks you’re brave.

So thank you for sharing your story with the rest of us. You made me view the world differently. I’m a fan of different.