In my querying adventures I’ve come to a conclusion that probably doesn’t surprise anyone but myself: Social validation is a powerful little thing.
I’ve never had more than an arm’s length interest in social media. The whole fishing for likes and retweets and friends has always seemed a little silly to me. But when an agent “liked” one of my pitches for one of the many pitch wars on Twitter, the dopamine hit was real. A hit of energy. A hit of hope.
Of course my chances of anything coming of it are only slightly better than winning the lottery. Still, it’s a start. Even if that one heart is all that’ll ever come of it, I will have had that hopeful little shiver. That little nudge to keep going. That tiny inkling that maybe there’s someone out there who might, just might, “get” my stories.
I’m lucky in that the number of followers and likes on my account doesn’t matter in the grand shape of things. I’m fortunate enough to have a day job that doesn’t require me to hustle for attention. I shudder to imagine the stress an influencer would be under. When every selfie, every meme, is real money in the bank, the urge to put yourself out there in ever more outrageous ways is strong. It’s a way to make a living. And if you’re adept at surfing the currents of the times, you can probably make a very good living at it. But it wouldn’t be a living for me.
To hustle for the approval of other people sounds like a one-way trip to hell. Well, I’m a introvert. No wonder I can’t figure out how anyone can stand to sacrifice their privacy on the altar of approval. Worse, you’re putting your life out there, for an anonymous, amorphous audience to dissect. Raving fans. Ranting enemies. Rampant egos. No, thank you. Well, there are millions of people who voluntarily bug their own houses with “smart” speakers and doorbells and meters, and carry corporate listeners (euphemistically called “assistants”) in their pockets, so what do I know?
So I’ll be content with the occasional mini validation, and accept it with gratitude, secure in the knowledge that it’s just a nice thing in my day, something that lifts my mood, but that doesn’t determine my livelihood or leaves my self-worth up to forces outside my control.