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To Speak Or Not To Speak

That was the question I put on myself.

I was at a Christmas Market, selling my book, very happily I must add. It was only my second market, fourth book signing, so I haven’t learnt alot and imagine I will continue to learn as I go.

But this particular Market, my anxiety felt a little higher than normal. Not sure why, it just happens that way, as anyone with anxiety will tell you. We can’t anticipate when it creeps out of the pores of our brains, but it does and its gross.

I struggled for the first hour easily. I distracted myself with coffee and treats from the little cafeteria near me but the anxiety nagged.

It wasn’t until the second hour I felt the worry wart slid off my face. I could smile with ease, I could say hello to potential readers that walked past. I started having friends and colleagues arrive and say hi, so that was nice too.

Then, here’s the kicker, I got approached by a Jay and Silent Bob looking guy. We spoke for a moment before he said, “actually I’m from the radio. Do you want to do a live broadcast with me?”

“No.” I replied without having the even think about it. No, I did not want to put myself more in a tail spin when I seemed to already be struggling in the moment.

He seemed caught off guard, so I laughed and added, “I’m a writer, not a speaker.”

Makes sense, right? I spend long hours deciding what my imaginery characters will say in a conversation. But in real life, on the spot? I’m often ditzy, not witty, jokes fly over my head, or I understand them but just don’t react. So I would much rather be writing than speaking.

I was on the radio, a few months ago. My Clark Kent job is running the local food bank. This summer we got a truck load of potatoes. You might have read the story I posted on here about that šŸ™‚

50,000lbs of potates.

And that was my first run in with tv cameras and radio hosts knocking down my door. It was my job, I had to do it. I could have said no, but I almost wanted to do it and there wasn’t much at stake. I did something amazingly good, no way trolls can rip that apart.

Talking on radio about my writing, my books, myself or anything involving me? Sounds way way more scary.

And I sweated through my whole radio call for the potates. My palm so sweaty on the phone I feared I would drop my cell.

So I said no to this radio host, and I don’t regret it at all.

I mean, I never hear Stephen King on the radio.

Hermit for life,

Norma Rrae

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