how to capture me
january musings
I’ve been thinking about how I used to choose books to read in a time before social media. I would go to the library, or bookstore, and browse the shelves. Sometimes I would recognise an author whose other work I’d enjoyed, or who I’d studied at university. Sometimes I would be drawn to the cover, or to an intriguing synopsis.
For example: I picked up The Little Friend by Donna Tartt because the cover caught my eye. I enjoyed it. Months later, searching for a book to read on an international flight, I came across The Secret History in an Amsterdam bookstore. This book, which has become such an enormous influence on me as an author, ended up in my hands due to pure chance and fate.
Thinking about this reminded me of how creatively rich my life felt in the days before social media, influencers, and smartphones. I miss being the girl who carried a notebook and pen everywhere, who was never without a novel, who made her own magazines, comics and film posters just for fun. How did she grow up to be an anxious woman who is constantly scrolling rather than reading stories?
I can’t disparage social media. It’s helped me build such a wonderful community of readers, booksellers, and other authors who have made my life so much richer. It has helped me turn Tenderly, I am Devoured from a book that my publisher had little interest in promoting to the number one most requested book on Netgalley last year, and named by Goodreads as a Most Anticipated Romantasy book.
Still. It does not feel great that so much of our livelihood as authors is tied to something so ephemeral, controlled by people who very definitely do not have our best interests at heart.
I hate the amount of time and energy I’ve spent agonising over how I wished my book would “go viral”. I hate that I’ve had to distill the complexity of my art into a two-second snippet, because that’s how long we have to grab attention. When art becomes your job there’s always a strange, discomforting shift—and the addition of social media only intensifies that. It’s a weird place to be.
I want to make art, to revel in the process of creativity. To fall head-over-heels in love with a story as I write. I also want to reach the audience who will connect with and love my books, to have a successful and sustainable career.
My goal for the year ahead is balance. To return to my inspirations, the feeling of magic in an Amsterdam bookstore, of randomly picking up a book that changed my creative life, to share pieces of my work and author life with the world and connect with a community that brings me joy. Is it possible? I have to believe it is.
Truly, I have no thoughts or answers. Just random musings, a very conflicted mind, and a lot of gratitude for all the good things that have come from the internet.
Love you all xx