Writing, for all its vagaries and foibles, is easier than putting yourself out there 

Writers fear nobody will read what they have written, and that somebody will

George RR Martin recently posted to his blog that he had spent this year battling 'sadness and depression', and that 'the worst may be yet to come'. File picture

There are two equally weighty fears when you’re a writer.

One, perhaps the more obvious one, is that nobody will read what you’ve written. That your story or book will just be a blip on the cosmos, a sparrow flying from the night into a brightly lit room and then back out into the night again.

The second, which is the one writers don’t like to dwell on too much, is that somebody will read what you’ve written. 

And worse, a total stranger. 

The doors of perception are open wide and, as the light makes you freeze in place like a startled rabbit, you have nothing to hide behind. 

It’s actually just as bad when somebody you know professionally, like another writer, tells you they can’t wait to read the book you’re working on. 

Dear Cthulhu, the pressure. 

The terror of being perceived is a subset of Lovecraftian cosmic horror you don’t realise exists until it happens to you.

That doesn’t mean that the whole process can’t be fun, in its own right. 

I mean, when you write, even if your plan is to write stories you would want to read yourself, deep down you really want other people to read them (and ideally pay for them, but you take what you can get).

I’m part of a book of Irish folk horror, A Graveyard for Gods, and for promoting it I’ve not only done my own posts and reels but been featured in other people’s, like when I filled out some interview questions for the editor, Lydia. 

It was one thing when other contributors to the book were reposting it. They’re all great people, and it’s been a great experience dealing with them in our group chat and social media circles; similarly with other writers I’ve become friendly with through small publishers. 

It was something else when people I had never encountered were doing it, talking about how great the project sounded.

Reader, somebody left fire emojis under a post featuring me, and I don’t know what to do with this information so I’m burdening you with it instead.

The anthology, which is in aid of the youth charity Fighting Words, has been named after the story I wrote. 

So now there’s pressure I have entirely invented in my own little head that the piece, which is long finished and edited and even formatted for print, will stand up to scrutiny. Literally nobody would think this except me.

Similarly, I’m in an anthology ( Channel the Dark 2) in aid of the mental health charity SOSAD Ireland, and my story was first in the book, which is from the Irish publisher Temple Dark Books. 

No pressure there, no pressure at all, people in the vanguard don’t get cut down first. 

Thankfully, one reviewer felt it “set the scene” and was “Kafkaesque”, so that pulled me away from the edge for a second.

Writing, for all its vagaries and foibles, is the easy part. Putting yourself out there is much harder.

I thought these two core fears would diminish over time, but more veteran writers than I assure me that no, absolutely not, this is your life now, so you’d better get used to it. 

And, from what I can tell, the more famous and successful you get, the more you get targeted for not doing exactly what fans demand, so maybe it’s better to stay somewhere below the radar.

George RR Martin is perhaps a case in point. His series A Song of Ice and Fire— the universe which birthed Game of Thrones, House of the Dragon, and A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms— remains unfinished, as it was when Game of Thrones was coming to its conclusion. 

He can’t even move online without a deluge of “finish the books” comments, even though he continues considerable writing and television work (would that we were all so capable at 77).

But recently he posted to his blog that he had spent this year battling “sadness and depression”, and that “the worst may be yet to come”. 

Part of this was due to some of his friends and loved ones passing away, but wouldn’t you feel that way if your every online movement was dogged by people making the same demands — demands to which none of them are entitled, by the way. 

However, social media and access to authors (and athletes and politicians) has made large cohorts feel like they’re somehow blameless no matter how bitter or persistent the criticism spewing out of them.

Most of my reporting colleagues for this publisher would probably agree (since I left X I get far less detritus on my posts). 

Weirdly, I found myself less worried, or even cognizant, of being perceived when I was a reporter than I do now, probably because then I was telling other people’s stories instead of my own.

And, strangely, I don’t feel that when it comes to this column, either.

Maybe I’m getting over my fears after all, and all I had to do was write my way out of them.

• Channel the Dark 2 is available from templedarkbooks.com.  

David O’Mahony is Irish Examiner assistant editor and a writer