Learning to Live with It
I’ve struggled all my life with being an outsider. Overlooked, unseen. Any crumb of praise or attention from a teacher was a godsend. Most of the time, though, I was just one of dozens, if not hundreds, that each teacher saw on a regular basis.
Even as an only child, I was often forgotten. Left sitting outside the dark Girl Scout meeting hut in a time before mobile phones. Locked out of the house after walking home from a friend’s. My parents would say, “We thought you were just in your room reading!” Which, to be fair, was not atypical, but still.
So I don’t know why I thought I’d ever be noticed as a writer or YouTuber either. Why anyone would ever pay attention to me. They never have before, so what would have changed? Even friends and family who say they support me don’t buy or read or review my books. Few of them subscribe to my YouTube channel. Seven years on that site and I have 248 subscribers as of the posting of this video. I talk about books and movies and TV—things you’d think people have an interest in. I’ve worked in film, in publishing, and am an author, playwright and screenwriter, so I have insight. Yet I’ve seen channels start and have thousands of subscribers within days. But not me. So much for “slow and steady wins the race.”
Apparently, I don’t know how to give people what they want. Maybe I’m too different in my tastes. Maybe I’m boring (though I’ve seen plenty of talking-head channels that do more or less the same as me). I’ve never minded the idea of being “niche,” but this goes beyond that. This is: might as well not exist at all.
The only reason I still write and make videos is that, for now, I still enjoy doing it. But at some point, the effort won’t be worth the lack of return. I don’t know when or where that tipping point is, but I’m sure it’s coming. In the meantime, I’m trying to learn to live with things as they are. Though it gets harder every day.