by John T. Spencer
I'm co-writing a novel right now with my wife. It's an exciting, confusing, invigorating, messy process. It's something we talked about a few years back, but I never pursued it, because I didn't see any opportunity in it. After all, I had to say something re-tweetable on Twitter chats in order to maintain my Klout score. I felt the need to prove myself on a few group blogs and chase every opportunity for teacher professional development. I had the chance to boost my ego, but to co-write a book felt humbling. I wouldn't have control.
I wanted to matter.
I wanted influence.
I wanted my voice to count.
But instead of refining my voice, I grabbed the megaphone and shouted into it with a look-at-me mentality. I chased an Edublog Award nomination and engaged in a who-says-the-smartest-tweet pissing contest. I chose snark over substance. I became increasingly competitive, even when writing posts about cooperation and collaboration. I became envious of the gurus and superstars who garnered so much attention in conferences. I hit embarrassing moments of self-despair over my lack of adequate book sales.
I woke up one morning and began a ritual of checking my stats: subscribers, followers, friends. I Googled myself (not as disgusting as it sounds). It felt empty. I was after opportunity when what I wanted was influence. Not Klout or even clout. I had lost my voice in a yelling contest.
I'm not sure I walked away from that entirely, but slowly I shifted from opportunity to influence. I gave myself the permission to take long breaks from Twitter and to retweet even if a person doesn't retweet my work. I quit censoring what I wrote through the filter of branding. I started talking up some of my favorite blogs instead of silently competing. I decided that I would do Facebook in person for forty days and I would blog about it even if I appeared less professional. I spent more time commenting on blogs.
I'm still in a place of transition. I'm still discovering what it means to bring others into my world. I'm still figuring out what it means to to ask rather than shout. I'm still stumbling over my ego and learning to say "yes" to the things that matter rather the things that will benefit my make-believe pseudo-self brand.
So, back to the novel. I'm writing the kind of novel that I would want my students to read. And, honestly, they might be the only ones to read it. (Or it might be popular. Popularity is a crap-shoot). But if they are, that's okay. I want to speak truth in nuance and narrative, pulling students toward a story that matters. I'm not sure if there's any opportunity in this, but I'm convinced that there is influence.