I was going to write a snarky post about Thanksgiving being the most American of holidays, citing the rampant and encouraged violent materialism that happens over here the day after Thanksgiving, for which it seems Thanksgiving itself is simply a prologue–and a hypocritical one at that: I’m grateful for what I have, but I NEED MORE STUFF!!
Turns out, though, that that’s about as snarky as I want to get about it, in the end, which might mean there’s some character growth going on over here. I dunno. I don’t want to jump to any conclusions, but it would be nice.
That said, I’m facing something of a quandary over here about the whole “creating a platform” thing regarding my writing. As a younger person, I was so much more consciously intent on everything I did ultimately pointing positively to Christ. That’s not to say everything I did, did. Probably more often than not, it didn’t. It’s pretty hard to shed one’s birthright of selfishness, I’ve discovered.
So, I don’t know if I’ve gotten cynical enough to stop caring, or if I’m just cynical about my own capacity to bring glory to God so I’m not trying as hard anymore, or even if I’ve gotten to the point where I realise I can’t glorify God by my own efforts, so I might as well relax and just hope He’s going to work it out through me. I really don’t know. It’s probably different at any given time of day, really.
Anyway, my point (which it’s only taken me four paragraphs to get to) is that at some point in my life this whole idea of self-promotion which it seems is necessary in the arts world would have been anathema to me, if not right out of the question. I just can’t quite figure out how to get a story out there and keep the focus on Jesus. I don’t know what to do with my emotions when I look at my blog stats and see that for the last three days each, only three people have read anything I’ve written. I feel disappointed, and then I think it’s not supposed to be about me anyway, so the disappointment is just an expression of selfishness. I want God to get the glory for the things I do, but in reality, I want some, too. It seems a little messed up that I named this blog, and now my fanpage, after myself, when I believe the real Story of life is God’s story, and I’m not the main character. I think those times I get mad at God are because I’ve gotten mixed up about that and think that I’m the main character and God is my (more powerful but much more self-effacing) sidekick or something.
I find it hard to imagine that naming a blog after myself and trying to drum up visibility for myself, with an eye to sales sometime down the line, is really very beneficial in keeping my eyes clear and realistic about who’s Story this really is, here. When did I start wanting people to follow me more than I want them to follow Jesus? And what do I do with this?
I have a book–about Jesus, no less, though it’s a novel–more about his mother, actually–that I’m contemplating self-publishing in the new year. (It’s called Favored One.) According to Writer’s Digest, self-publishing has suddenly become industry-acceptable, and if I can scrape together the funds to do it, I want to try to get this book on some shelves. But such a venture doesn’t work unless I talk to you about it a lot, and try to get you to talk about it, too. And I wonder, is it, to me, really just about me in the end after all? It’s not what I wanted . . .