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Going Personally Public in Today's Scary Social Media Scene

By Kirsten Hubbard

So, I went public. No, not the S&P - yet. On social media. It’s a very minor thing, but, like many minor things, it’s indicative of a larger change in mindset and positioning, one that I have resisted. By “resisted” I mean fit-throwing, screaming, stubborn, not-even-having-this-conversation, hell-no tantrums to sage and very patient mentors.

Why would I “be the face”? The perfect life is already mine – days spent wrapped in my old house, snuggled in a big comfy leather chair, warmed by my dog at my feet, toasting by the fire, favorite worn blankie at my side, writing to change the world, and winning. My commute hassles are kittens intertwining my legs as I descend the stairs. Live meetings are rare, and wonderful, naturally social people represent Ghost Writer at events so I might remain perched thus in my little moated castle, no one entering without my express permission. It is my personal definition of success.

For an intensely driven introvert, it is a perfect life: few distractions to incumber an insanely aggressive to-do list, with little social interactions beyond my beloved, trusted, and treasured small circle who solely bear the burden of my deeply loyal, and maybe sometimes oppressive, attachment.

So, “why change?” I would tantrum, hugging my blankie for strength.

Because a personal definition of success is a base, low goal – one beneath me.

Ghost Writer’s success is not its alone. It is larger than my personal success, or that of my beloved circle. Ghost Writer’s success has fed people, healed divides, brought comfort, respected history, and celebrated culture. It has proven that a small group of people can propose radically different ideas to the biggest social ails of our time, and make them work. People talk about this kind of real world-changing power a lot.

But, I have done it. I know that power viscerally. And now the weight of it both uplifts and crushes me.

What could be – for Ghost Writer, and for other avenues of doing what needs to be done and saying what needs to be said – is only suppressed by what barriers I create. Placed well, those barriers keep me focused. Placed unwell, they block progress.

Building this new Camelot is not “easy” for me, but it is natural and comfortable. Crossing the moat is not. I feel vulnerable and raw and not very trusting. I am armored with my blankie; my ratty old Collie and a few kittens serve as my beasts of burden. Please, my treasured, over-burdened small circle, please tell me you’ve got my flank.


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