Message from a writer (who just wants to write again)

I used to be just a writer.

Just a music obsessed vocalist.

Just an artist.

I taught myself to write as a young person because I loved to read. It was really that simple: read a lot, study the words. Watch the patterns form. Do it yourself.

I went to school for writing because I wanted it to be even better. More polished. More refined. But mainly because I wanted to learn the “why” in what makes a story good. I wanted to know specifically why MY stories were good.

I never thought about being a social media author, or even connecting with a community of other authors on socials.

And yes, no matter if you’re in the traditional or indie space, networking is important. Building relationships with other writers & editors & designers, etc. is what you’re SUPPOSED to do. It’s not just a social media thing, it’s a writer thing. I get that. (Trust me, the amount of group projects I was forced to do in school reminded me of that every day.)

But something was lost along the way.

Some of you may remember that I first made my Instagram as a business page. It’s had many names over the years, but I started with social media copywriting, then moved to ghostwriting, then moved to writing mentoring.

But the problem was, all I wanted to do was actually write. I mean, okay, tbh I didn’t always wanna write, lol, but I just wanted to be a WRITER. I didn’t want to do all of those other things that were adjacent to my passion. So I flipped the script. Turned this into an author page. Made things simple, and more aligned to who I was as a person and an artist.

I met a few solid people, but mostly minded my business. Shared some snippets of stuff I was working on, a few poems here and there, and just tried to have fun.

I even wrote a whole book because of this space. Truly, I don’t know when or if Feeding Lucy would’ve happened if it weren’t for the urge to give you all something of mine to finally hold in your hands.

But then the pressure set in.

Podcasts, reviews, arcs, collabs, events, marketing, etc. became part of my every day vocabulary. Then the pressure to write another book came.

“I need at least one book a year,” I’d say to myself.

But that became unrealistic really quickly. I’m not just an indie author, but I’m a Disabled indie author. I’m also a Disabled person who loves a lot of different things, loves creating a lot of different things. I also, as all of us do, have a life outside of this little space here on the internet.

I didn’t wanna have to keep up with every other indie author on here. That was never supposed to be what this was for. Writing was never supposed to feel … like this.

So I did what I did best: got overwhelmed, stopped posting, stopped writing the new book I was working on, and focused on other things completely.

But the urge to get my thoughts on paper was itching the back of my brain the whole time.

I never wanted to become so overwhelmed by writing—never wanted it to become such a “job”—that it destroyed my passion completely.

Let me reiterate: it was NEVER supposed to be this way.

And let me also be clear: I may have trouble getting myself to write sometimes. I may not always view it as fun or something I HAVE to do all the time. I may even go months without touching a story …

But it was ALWAYS going to be a part of me, whether I liked it or not.

I think what’s happened in the years since promoting myself as an author online, is that I lost what it once was to me. I don’t think I even recognized it for what it was: because realistically I knew that as a Disabled writer I was going to have a different pace than others. I knew that I didn’t have to write every day like I used for it to still mean that much to me.

But inevitably I did get sucked up into  the mindset of the online space. The mindset of doing more. Showing up all the time. Having something to prove, or at least show for my years of experience as a storyteller.

And if we’re being REALLY vulnerable—it comes from a place of feeling excluded. I ALWAYS felt like an outsider in those spaces, minus the small group of people I’ve been able to work with and build solid relationships with.

I learned ways to get my writing out there. The people to talk to. The sites to go on. The groups to join. I did it all, because I thought I was “supposed” to.

And did it get a few more eyes on my book? Yes. Did I meet great people (especially those who helped make my book beautiful and polished) along the way? Also yes.

But some of the other things—the marketing, the posts, the schmoozing—distracted me from the actual writing, which I can’t reiterate enough …

WAS THE WHOLE POINT THE ENTIRE TIME.

I even started to question if I really wanted to be a writer anymore. If I was even cut out for this.

Again, I didn’t realize that the space itself, and the anxiety and pressure it inevitably caused (mostly by my own anxious hand), was the reason for these feelings.

I thought maybe I just really wasn’t a writer anymore. Or at least was pretending to be one while all I actually did was watch reality tv in bed all day.

And I’ll say the quiet part out loud: it sucked the creativity right out of me.

But in the midst of the exposing of horrific, hateful, and bigoted actions of several people in the indie horror community recently, I realized being an outsider in communities like that isn’t such a bad thing after all.

Maybe … just maybe, it was (and I repeat) NEVER SUPPOSED TO BE THIS WAY.

Maybe getting our stories on paper was all it was supposed to be the entire time.

All of that to say, I don’t really know what the future holds.

I’m (sort of) writing a new book—something less fantastical and scary, and more raw, more real, more about what comes from within.

And I’ll definitely tell you about it, when the time is right.

I’ll still do all the things, put it up on all the places, talk about it with people who actually care about it.

My presence on socials will not just disappear into bloody smoke-filled dust.

But I’m not going to be an “Instagram  author” anymore. I’m not going to worry myself about being part of the “indie book community” online anymore.

I wanna get back to what (I think) we all came here for:

The writing.

The books.

The creativity.

I’ll take my sweet ass time writing my stories, and I won’t worry about how much I’m posting, how much I’m putting out, how many books I’ll have in a few years.

I won’t worry about how many people read my stories, just that the right people are reading my stories.

That the ones who need to read them, find them.

I’ll limit events to those ran by people I trust, filled with authors I support, and readers who just want to read good stories.

I’ll maybe even write again, knowing that I no longer have to worry about how much I’m getting done, how long I’ve been silent on social media, or if I’m doing enough to promote it or am connected to the right people.

The only thing I need to be connected to is the page.

That’s the only thing that should’ve ever mattered.

With that said, I may not be posting on socials much, may even quietly disappear for a short while, just to get back to the stuff that actually matters.

But know that even in my absence, words will be written. Art will be made. Creativity will exist again.

They couldn’t take it from me if they tried.

-Mo