Failure

But what if I am wrong
What if I fail...

Irrational expectations due to parental misguidance.

It is time to press on, folks. To move past my inferiority complex and do what I do.

I cannot promise dates or a specific timeframe, but I am working on episodes for Season 2.

So far, I have a lot to discuss.

Mistakes

The fear of a mistake causes pause.
More than pause, really. I freeze. Before pen hits paper, the fear cripples me. So then I procrastinate. I dread. I procrastinate some more.
The weight of the world buries me.
Why?
Because I was always wrong as a child.
It makes a difference.

Perfectionism

I fear making mistakes. This explains my increased procrastination when the pressure of a story or podcast gets real. I hide in safety:
Books
Video games
A facade, sure, but without the possibility of a life altering mistake.

Process

With the new format I will record in sections.

That's the plan at least.

Rather nervous as it is new.

Wish me luck!

New format

Well, instead of speaking ideas/life experiences into a mic, I will attempt to produce a real-life radio show. This past week I have been brainstorming how to beat break the show into sections. 3 to 4 to be exact. Between 15 to 20 minutes per section. I am very excited about.

Episode with the new format will be out next week.

Compelled Compulsion

I cannot help it at the moment.
My mind sticks to the thought of relevance.
Relevance on social media, podcast, and ebook sites. Please don't misunderstand. This isn't a need for positive attention. However, I obsess over the relevancy of building a social fan base or following because it may be important down the road. Why important? Eventually I hope to make a career out of writing.
So do these moments today affect the future?
Sure.
But how much of social media plays a part?
Can Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, and whatever the hell else is out there play such a significant role in sales and downloads?
Shouldn't the content of a novel or podcast be enough?
I know the answer to that. I have for a long time. I just hate playing games. The social media game. The "Look at me, look at me," game.
The only time I like attention on me is when I am receiving laughs. And that's really only around people I know.
Shit.
I'm stuck between generations. Sometimes I love the potential of the internet and social media. Other times I wish for the glamour of the 80's, when personal tech cried in infancy, most of it too expensive for a lower-middle class family.
I demand, from myself, that I keep a strict schedule in regards to the podcast. Every week on Monday. Or Sunday if I finish early.
I am a day late.
But what do I do when I don't really have anything to talk about this week?
The schedule.
Content.
Schedule ensures the audience stays, right?
No, the content.
Back and forth I go.
What will I decide?

Episode 12 (Didn't I already use this as a title once before?)

I recorded a day early.
I spent a week feeling insecure, wondering if I could even continue doing the show.
This may have been the most fun I have had recording an episode.
Woot effing woot