Why the Vocal Community Scares Me

Dear friends,

I love Vocal. It's my latest happy place, second only to my local Goodwill, which I frequent far more often than I'd care to admit.

But Vocal scares me. Not the platform. You guys. You Creators. Y'all scare the will to write out of me.

Why? Hm. Well... Because I doubt that I will ever be able to compete with the sheer volume of stories y'all crank out on a weekly, daily, and sometimes hourly basis.

I mean, it's honestly so cool. I'm sincerely impressed with your commitment to creating content, and I'm astounded by the quality of your creative juices. But do y'all not have day jobs? Don't you have children to care for? Or dogs to walk? Maybe a plant to water?

You have to tell me your secrets. Do you not sleep? Do you wake up before the sun to put pen to paper? Do you stay up with the stars to click-clack away on your keyboard?

Because I just can't seem to find the time. Between my work as a journalist, my responsibilities as a dog mom, and my undeniable need for sleep, it seems that I have mere minutes of me time.

I've learned in my two months here that Creators get out of Vocal what they put into it. Community engagement is the heart and soul of this place. And I've treasured the subscriptions and comments I've received so far. You are all so wonderfully kind.

But how can my occasional poems and rushed responses to challenges compete with your beautiful essays and daily journals? How can I engage with the Vocal community if my notifications tab is so flooded with publication updates come bedtime that reading story titles is all I can manage before my head hits the pillow?

*sigh*

I'm sorry. Maybe I'm being ridiculous. Vocal was meant to be fun. An escape from the regular work day without the social pressures I find on Instagram or the money I waste on Facebook Marketplace.

But, darn it, I want to do well. I want y'all to like me. I don't want to exhaust my readers with my style and tone. But I don't want to disappoint my subscribers with my lack of production.

In the beginning, I think I was doing well. I was excited to share my work, and I published stories almost daily. I pulled dusty binders out of cabinets and flipped through their hole-punched pages, looking for high-school-era poems to release to the World Wide Web.

But my enthusiasm died when I began to feel that I couldn't keep up. Perhaps dedicating myself to a series would help. Would you like to see an archived poem every week? Or an ode once a month? A haiku once every blue moon?

I'm prepared to make sacrifices. "Mischa," my submission to Vocal's Mythmaker Challenge, is one of insomnia's children, as is the image I crafted to accompany the story. But I'd prefer not to sacrifice my sanity.

Maybe coffee is the answer. But I don't know how to make coffee. It's truly embarrassing. If it's not hot and ready in the break room at work when I walk in, I have to play the cider-packet-slapping, microwave-button-beeping song of shame.

Maybe I need a regimen. A routine. That's the word. I've been without one for so long that it seems I've forgotten what a habit schedule is called. Golly.

Or maybe one of you, fellow Creators, has some advice. Where do y'all find the light of day to write?

I'll be over here, reading the Mr. Coffee instruction manual. If you find the light of day anywhere, drop it in my comment section. Thanks much!

Yours,

Emma