What do you do with the crickets?

You just published your post. How do you feel?

Elated? After all, you spent time creating, editing, and perfecting it; surely you’ll be flooded with filled-in hearts and comments now that it’s public.

But after that doesn’t happen in five minutes do you find yourself staring at the screen, refreshing it, and then taking a “break” (where you check your phone for alerts)?

And still . . . nothing?

Been there.

Obliviously I’m not revealing anything when I say there are so many things written daily, good things, that if we’re looking to “be discovered” the chances appear slim. Are we too overloaded as a society that we can’t keep up? That certainly has to be part of it.

What really got me thinking about all of this was a comment from a writer I recently followed, Matt Paolelli. (I hope he doesn’t mind my sharing).

Anyway, Matt wrote a great article about becoming a new dad and he was looking for some advice. This is a great place to ask that question so what’s the problem?

The problem was he got crickets. Few reads, shares, and hardly any comments. (It’s a shame because it was a good article — I encourage you to check it out).

When this happens to me I often find myself asking, “Why do I bother doing this?”

And, if I’m honest, the follow up to that is, “Why does this hurt?”

I’m not talking about ego-hurt (I think that’s natural and I can usually let that go pretty quickly).

What I’m talking about is a more intimate hurt.

Recently I wrote A letter to my son on his 16th birthday. It was personal, but I also wanted it read — that’s why I published and promoted it. I was happy people took the time to do so.

But what if NOBODY read it? Would I be OK with that? At first? No.

And to be clear, I’ve written plenty of things that, after looking at the comments or likes, I’m not even sure I read it.

But when I think about the motivation for that letter it wasn’t public acknowledgement. Is that nice to get? Yes. But what motivated me was the writing and what came out of that— advice for my son. Advice I hope resonates with him and with others for a long time.

So when things aren’t read why does it hurt? Why is it so easy to take that personally?

The conclusion I’ve come to is this — because it is personal.

I think many writers put so much of themselves into what they write and when they share it they want it read. (As an aside I don’t call myself a writer, I don’t know why, but that’s a different question for another time).

What do I do? I try to answer the why. Why am I writing?

Am I keeping my New Year’s resolution? Partly. But aside from that why do I write?

The simple answer is because I love to write. That’s it.

I’m not holding my breath that any articles of mine will be appearing in The Huffington Post in the near future. I also probably won’t be scattered across the pages of Facebook, trending on Twitter, or featured on Medium (like a friend’s article recently did — well-deserved and a great article by the way Tim!).

None of that matters. Writing is, pardon the pun, a medium for me to express myself. I like the process and the sharing of it. And when there are comments or acknowledgments? Even better because it means something I’ve written touched someone enough that they were inspired to respond. It made them think or feel. That’s powerful.

So, what to do if faced with crickets? My two cents?

Just write.

Every day I discover something new and I love that about our digital society. If it’s not noticed by legions of people? So what.

I know that not everything I share will be great. Case in point: catch up with me next time when I talk about TV shows from my past — hint the classic Dungeons and Dragons cartoon makes an appearance.

Groundbreaking insights that will blow your mind? Nope. But even the draft brought up a lot of good memories, which is why I started it.

If nobody reads or comments I’ll be OK. Not because I’m a martyr or an elitist who’s too good to care about whether my writing is read or not — God knows that’s not me. I do care.

I’ll be OK because the writing makes me happy.

I hope your writing does the same for you. I hope tomorrow I discover something you’ve written or shared with me.

So please keep writing, because if we’re at all alike the writing itself, while it may not feel like it, will still be rewarding.

Thanks for reading and happy writing.

Have you found yourself in a similar situation? What do you tell yourself?