I Don't Want to be Famous.

I thought I did but I don't.

Fame by Nick Youngson CC BY-SA 3.0 Pix4free

What a revelation! I’ve spent the last few years fretting and worrying and fuming over my many years of anonymity, my invisibility, my lack of readers, my lack of money from publishing—only to realize in the last few days that I really don’t want to be so famous I can no longer enjoy the community I’ve built and the people I know now.

I write these pieces I’ve been dropping both here and at Constant Commoner for them. For you. And if I had a readership in the many thousands I think I would find myself drifting away from this intimacy simply because there would be too many and it would be too much.

I would feel as if I were on stage performing for a nameless, shadowy audience numbering in the thousands, becoming a crowd.

I wouldn’t know them and they wouldn’t know me. I can’t even imagine…

I came to this revelation not on my own but because someone with many thousands of followers mentioned on Notes that they no longer even look at their comments because they’ve grown so much they don’t have the time to respond and still get their writing done.

That startled me. It felt…sad. It felt distant. It felt like taking and never giving.

I’m building my communities here because I want the chance to kanoodle with people who get what I’m trying to say and what I’m trying to do. I don’t want to just be saying and doing without giving everyone a chance to join our conversations. I want us to talk about it. I learn from everything everyone has to offer, but more than that, I like it.

I’m not here writing at Substack because I want an audience, I’m writing here because I want these conversations. They mean the world to me and if I had to choose between that kind of fame and what I have here, I’ll always choose what I have here.

I like where I am! Who knew? I sure didn’t. (I know. I whine…)

So here’s what I’ve been thinking:

• I’ve been balking at sending anything out to places where I’m either accepted or rejected, and I know now it’s because (a) I don’t want to have to wait until they’re ready to give me an answer and (b) I don’t want some editor telling me to do things differently in order to accommodate their needs. I’m not just balking, I’m refusing! They don’t know what they’re missing, but I do. I feel good about the fact that they can’t have me! (Oh, I’m kidding. They could have me if they came calling. But I’m not rushing to them.)

• I’ve spent way too much time drooling over those who are making it big and announcing it over on Notes. Good for them if that’s what they want! I’ll never judge them for wanting that kind of success, but now I’m going to stop envying them. Because it turns out I’ve been trying to grasp at a golden ring that just isn’t that appealing anymore.

• I no longer have the energy or the ambition for the kinds of things they’re working at in order to get big and bigger. It wears me out just reading about what they’ve conjured up next in order to create what is essentially a business. I like that most of them are giving back and filling a need, but I leave it to them now. All I want to do is write. And carry on our conversations.

• I want to write the things I want to write, and I want to do it in my own space, in my own time, in my own words, without the pressures of fame or fortune, which would move me away from my clan and put me somewhere I wouldn’t want to be. (I don’t call my other space ‘Constant Commoner’ for nothing.)

Now, I don’t mean I don’t ever want these spaces to grow. Of course I do. I love seeing new subscribers, and the paid subscriptions are a most delicious icing on the cake. But I no longer feel the need to become famous. I’m changing course. I like this neighborhood. I don’t need or even want to move up to such lofty heights I give up what I have here.

Here is where my home is. And I don’t have to tell you how glad I am that you’re here with me. You know that already. ❤️

---