I’m reading at the moment, and enjoying it. This is a real luxury for me. I can go for long periods without being able to read at all, unless it’s connected with ‘work’.
The trouble is there seems to be so little time. I want to read, write and also socialise on the internet, but there is always this nagging worry that I ought to be engaged in marketing, or whatever you want to call it.
I want to have time to read and enjoy blogs and articles about writing, publishing – and other issues. I also want to have time to read as well as write. The only way I can learn and develop as a writer is by reading – and writing – more.
But I need time to play. Writing is about creativity. It’s not just about hard-nosed business sense and marketing, whatever people say. I’m not saying that isn’t important – or valuable – to self-published writers, but it’s not what I’m good at. If I had been good at marketing, I would have pursued a career in it.
So I need to find a way forward. I love the internet, but much of what I enjoy involves hunting vintage bargains on eBay, or pottering about on a doll forum. Socialising on Facebook can be fun too. But the other people I see on there must be better-organised than I am. I sometimes start to feel rather panicky, as if time is leaching away from me while I’m on there.
There’s no grand conclusion to this essay. I don’t have an answer. Just a problem looking for a solution.