Why publish?

This post follows on from one I wrote two months ago, called "Why Write?"

I woke up at 3:30 this morning and toddled into the bathroom. While I was there, I put something together.

You all know that I've long had a fantasy of writing and publishing stuff. (See, for example, oh I don't know, maybe here and here—or, more recently, here and here.) You know that sometimes I have played with the idea of letting it all go and forgetting about it. (See, for example, here.) And you remember that more recently I have gotten external advice that says, No, you actually need to get your ass in gear and do it. (See especially here.) Not that I've made any progress, but it's the latest input I've gotten.

But why? In the long run, what does it matter? In my earlier post "Why Write?" I quoted one expert on self-publication that there are two reasons to publish: Money and Fame. But I don't really need the money (though of course it would be nice). And remember what Anne Roiphe says about fame:

That is the moment I began to despise the idea of fame. What does it do for the bearer of the laurel? Who cares if your name is in the paper? Who cares if you are mentioned as one of the top-ten cyclists, boxers, batters, painters, poets, artists, fly fishermen in the world? Who cares if your name is written in history books? …. Jack wanted to be Michelangelo painting on the ceiling, lying on his back on the scaffolding. Good old Michelangelo. Good for us who stare up at the hand of God reaching toward Adam. But actually Michelangelo doesn't know that crowds line up and pay good money to enter the room to see his masterpiece, and if he had known, would his breakfast have tasted any better, his loves been any stronger, his life any longer?

So why bother? Who needs it? And in particular, why does Kimberly's ogham say I have to get it done?

I think it's not because there's anything special about writing, nor about publication. It's not because there's necessarily anything special about achievement, per se. The problem is with me.

All throughout my professional career, one of my biggest weaknesses was in marketing myself. My career never advanced as far as it "should have" (judging only by my talents) because I so rarely put myself out there. I remember someone once looking at some of the data that I had been accumulating routinely, just as a matter of course in my job, with stark amazement: How do you have all of this great data? Does anybody else know about this? Can other people in the company access this? This is fantastic! 

And I tried to explain, Sure, anybody inside the company can use this. And I have it because it's my job. Should I be making a lot of noise over this, or something?

Yes, he thought I should do a lot to publicize the data I had compiled. That had never occurred to me, and I really didn't know how.

Nor is it just about my career. Over a decade ago, D said she thought that I spent 95% of my life "hiding," and wondered what it would look like if I ever just stopped hiding. I didn't know how to answer, because I had no idea what that could possibly look like.

This is the problem. This is what I need to overcome.

It's not that Achievement Makes Life Worthwhile. 

It's not that there is anything intrinsically valuable in Undying Fame.

It's that I have to learn how to make some noise on my own account. I have to learn how to come out from behind the mask of bland geniality, and be willing to sparkle in public. This is a mission I have to accomplish in order to rectify a personal weakness, not because I'm trying to meet any arbitrary external threshold.

And if it turns out that reincarnation is true after all, the implicit threat is clearly that if I don't fix this now I'll just have to face the exact same situation later. May as well deal with it this time around.

Well, hell.

It makes sense. But it won't be easy. And yes, I understand that if it were easy I wouldn't need to do it. 

(Heavy, dramatic sigh.)