The Introvert’s Social Dilemma

I think it’s safe to say that most writers are introverts. Not all, but most. Maybe that's part of what drew us to writing in the first place. After all, we live most of our lives in our own heads. We carry entire universes inside ourselves. These universes are beautiful, complicated places that we feel both compelled to share and terrified to reveal. We long for connection, but we fear ridicule. Odds are, only a handful of close friends and family even know about our dream of becoming published authors.

We were probably the last people to join Facebook. Our Instagram accounts stayed private from the day we created them, lured in by filters called Amaro and Mayfair.

Then we decided to get serious. Not about writing (that had always been serious) but about publishing. About getting our imaginary worlds out into the real one. We used to delude ourselves into thinking that writing a great story would be enough to find an audience, only to learn it wasn’t. We had to become the sort of person we’d spent our lives resisting. We had to venture into extroversion. We had to become social.  

We heard the same thing over and over.

"You need a Twitter account."

"You need a blog."

Then it became:

"You need TikTok."

"You need Instagram."

Fine.

So, we tiptoed onto the platforms. We made our private profiles public. We started posting. And, surprisingly, it wasn't so bad. We found other writers. We connected with readers (our favorite people in the world). We made friends with kindred spirits we'd never met in person. We shared snapshots of our daily lives, commiserated over the creative process, and occasionally overshared, because that's what happens when introverts feel safe.

Our audiences might have numbered in the hundreds, but that never mattered much. We weren't there for the numbers. We were there for the community. Until we were told that wasn’t enough. We must have a minimum of 3,000 followers to be taken seriously by an agent or a publisher. But we also must have engagement. We can’t just share random photos. We must have a brand. We aren’t here to make friends. We’re here to sell. Sell, sell, sell. Sell your book. Sell your services. Sell yourself. Followers aren’t friends; they’re consumers. It all became unwelcome noise.

And if you're an introvert like me, noise is exhausting. We want to cover our ears and shout, "Make it stop!" But we've spent so much of our lives believing everyone else knew better. We were told to speak up in class and lean in at the table, because the real world was built for the assertive and outspoken, not the thoughtful and introspective. It rewards the people working the room instead of observing from the corner.

Therin lies the introvert's social media dilemma. Maybe the clue was in the name all along, “social.”

To most people, being social means lively bars, crowded restaurants, cocktail parties, and endless small talk. For many introverts, it means something else entirely. It means meaningful engagement and active listening.

Unfortunately, social media is unavoidable, just like the occasional dinner party.

We have to show up. But we still get to decide how we show up. We can keep looking for connection instead of performance. We can follow people because we're genuinely curious about them, not because someone told us they're essential to our personal brand. We can share what matters to us instead of trying to shout over everyone else. We can make social media work for us instead of letting it tell us who we have to become. After all, we've spent enough of our lives letting other people define success.

So, if I'm following you on social media, it's because I'm genuinely interested in what you have to say. I'm not looking for another number on a screen or a passive like to one of my posts. I want to know YOU.  

And if we ever find ourselves at the same party, feel free to join me in the quiet corner because the world doesn't need more noise. It needs more authenticity, more curiosity, and more people willing to have real conversations. Introverts have always been good at that. We don't have to become louder to belong online; we have to keep showing up as ourselves.

Because somewhere out there, another quiet soul is scrolling through the noise, hoping to find the kind of voice only you can offer.