To boast or not to boast: should you always share your work?

I know journalists who celebrate every commission, boast about every byline and shamelessly self-promote every single piece they ever write. But I also know journalists who prefer to fly under the radar. You might stumble across their name on a piece in a magazine, yet they won’t have breathed a word about that gig to anyone.

We fall into both camps. Come to think of it, one of my first encounters with Hazel was when I tagged her in a social media post congratulating her on a brilliant piece of hers I’d just read in the paper. She nearly died of mortification, and demanded that I delete the post or suffer the eternal consequences. And so began a beautiful relationship…

So, should you tell other people about your work? If print is dying and the future of our industry is digital, it obviously makes sense to do all you can to increase the traffic to every piece you write. To that end, I’ve heard of editors actively encouraging writers to promote their published pieces online, and I’ve been asked by one publication to join a Facebook group and interact with readers (in my own time) on a piece I wrote. It stands to reason that a writer who has a Twitter account and isn’t afraid to use it is going to be an appealing prospect to an editor who is counting clicks.

But for some, that approach feels showy. We share our stuff reluctantly, couching it with caveats – I didn’t write the headline! – and underplaying our game. It’s self-deprecation, yes, but it’s also taking the piss out of ourselves before anyone else gets there first. It’s irrational – journalism is the wrong career for someone who doesn’t like to stick their head above the parapet – but sharing your work essentially invites scrutiny, and that can feel uncomfortable. With good reason; we all know writers who’ve been trolled on Twitter, and you only have to spend a few minutes ‘below the line’ to understand why ‘never read the comments’ is a mantra among many newspaper journalists.

It’s not just that we fear criticism. We’re hardly shrinking violets. We know how to handle ourselves if someone takes issue with an idea we’ve expressed, and we’re far from afraid to stand up for ourselves. What makes me sometimes want to hide my work is a niggling voice that says ‘Who do you think you are?’

Case in point: I recently wrote a tabloid piece that earned me ten times the rate I was paid for the previous piece I’d written. A no-brainer in commercial terms – that fee made me feel I could take the rest of the month off. I was proud of the piece and the work that went into it – writing something on edition in a few hours and having it make print is an achievement I’m not ashamed to feel good about. And yet I found myself going out of my way to keep the piece from my nearest and dearest. For no good reason that I could think of.

In the end, my husband boasted on my behalf. And I’m glad he did. Sharing the piece with people who were only too happy to celebrate the achievement for me was a lovely boost. Riding out the scrutiny and discovering that people rated my piece and didn’t think I was a dick for writing it felt so much better than shuffling from foot to foot whilst frantically trying to hide every single copy of the paper in my local Co-op.

As someone else put it recently; there are enough people out there all too eager to cut you down to size, why do it for them? Why play small?

Or, what Marianne Williamson says.

“There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you.”

I still don’t recommend you ever heap public praise on Hazel for her work, though. Not if you value your life.