I’m a Nobody, and I don’t much mind
But as a novelist about to debut work, I’m supposed to mind. I’m supposed to want my name out there to court readers because who reads work from nobodies? Apparently nobody, that’s who.
So, with reluctant baby steps, I’m adding my voice to the frog chorus, trying to be somebody. A small somebody. At the very least, a person who exists on the internet.
A month ago, I did not exist according to the internet. Google me, and you got pages and pages of middle-aged Indian men. As a middle-aged woman, I must admit to feeling a perverse joy at this. I’m no luddite — only a decade ago, I blogged and facebooked like the next guy — but there’s satisfaction to knowing the internet can forget you. That you can walk far from the noise and stand alone in moments and spaces that belong only to you. As I rejoin the fray, inching forward, pressing my body against billions, hoping to be noticed, that’s what I’m afraid to lose. That, and these things:
~An uncluttered workspace.
-A writer’s workspace is her mind. And it doesn’t take long for social media to hijack it. I don’t mean the endless scrolling of memes — thankfully, in-app limits can halt that. I’m talking about expending mental energy on optics instead of my work, on caring about the eyes trained my way and choreographing moves to woo others. Maybe it’s because I’m an inveterate people pleaser (or just human), I can become easily obsessed with wording and rewording even the most boring posts; with okaying and nixing ideas as I market myself; with constantly checking metrics like followers and likes — things with questionable influence on book sales. I’m certain I was able to complete my novel because a social-media-free workspace allowed for true mind wandering. Though I write for public consumption, I work best when the public doesn’t consume me. And I fear being consumed.
~Feeling authentic.
- Curating an online persona, or brand, is the thing to do these days. But we can all agree it feels a little fake. Or a lot fake. IRL, we’re multifaceted and complicated. Online, nuance goes out the door. We must stand staunchly under bold-lettered umbrellas because that’s how brands work, and we must tiptoe around touchy topics lest we say something we can’t take back. We certainly can’t say, I see merits and flaws on both sides. Just like we can’t post beautiful vacation pics and complain about the weather, local politics, or getting in a fight with our family. We must either humble brag or whine. But boiling everything down to a thumbs up or thumbs down can feel like a lie.
~Anonymity
- If statistics are to be trusted, I will never have to worry about fame (even the minor sort) or my novel achieving runaway bestseller status. Stats say a face-plant is more likely. Like most debut writers, I hope for the middle ground — to touch a few readers, get respectable reviews, and earn out my advance. But win, lose, or draw, my novel’s fate will play out in a public space, and though I’m proud of my book, the chicken inside me wants to bury my head in the sand while I send it out.
But with the current glut of work and dearth of readers, a writer cannot bury her head and expect her novel to make its way into hands. And social media is the new word of mouth. So, I will step into the metaverse while trying to maintain my authenticity and sanity. By the time my book arrives, I will hope to exist on the internet. I hope a few people will be curious enough to check out page one. Then page two. Maybe they’ll read all the way to the end, and even recommend it.
Yes, the cloistered writer is the oldest cliché. But clichés exist for a reason, and I suspect most writers must shutter from the masses to produce work. The queen of us loner writer types, perhaps the most famous nobody of all, was the inimitable Emily Dickenson. And look at the stuff she came up with, away from the noise.
I’m Nobody! Who are you? (260)*
1830 –1886
I’m Nobody! Who are you?
Are you — Nobody — too?
Then there’s a pair of us!
Don’t tell! they’d advertise — you know!
How dreary — to be — Somebody!
How public — like a Frog —
To tell one’s name — the livelong June —
To an admiring Bog!
*This poem is in the public domain.
Nanda Reddy is a writer (A Girl Within A Girl Within A Girl, forthcoming from Zibby Books, 2024). Her novel is about a Guyanese-American woman with multiple hidden identities. Please read the first page when it debuts; and if it grabs you, please get it!
