This is my current Facebook picture. I am, you see, a social media whore. I didn't set out to be one. It just kinda happened. And I'm not the happy hooker kind either. I'm the one who's searching for a better life. One who's theme song isn't the plunking of my fingertips on the keyboard. (Wait, since I'm a writer, I guess that kinda is my song. Oh well.)
To clean myself up and try to feel more respectable about my cyber self, I started to write more. Then I started to use social media to meet other writers and find more readers. Thus started the period where I joined a few blogging groups. Ok, I joined a lot of blogging groups for a while there. I met a lot of people. But, sometimes I took things to the next level too fast with the wrong person and let them friend me. Before I realized that we just weren't right for each other. That our relationship was based on a mutual lust for success. And I felt skanky all over again. I hoped I hadn't contracted an STD (Socially Transmitted Disease) in the process. Then, my fingers did the walk of shame all the way to the delete button.
After that I buried myself even more in my writing. Sure that substance would prevail over sociability. However, substance is what substance does. So, no one reads substantive things they don't know exist. One simply must be sociable to some degree. So I tried a new angle, I joined some expat sites. Not knowing at the time that some foreign men use these sites like a Match.com directory to score American women. Who are a pretty hot commodity in certain parts of the world in case you didn't know. I had fallen right in the arms of the womanizer. How could I have been so naive?
I was so disheartened at the whole social scene and was ready to go into seclusion when one day I was at the library and saw the book Likeable Social Media. I didn't have any expectations. And the same message I had been told by other writers ran through it. Social media is invaluable. And the best place to promote your product? Twitter. Apparently, it's the biggest pimp out there. Crap.
Because of course Twitter is the one site I said I'd never join. Really, do I need to know every time someone I don't actually know in real life takes a crap or eats a hot dog. Or better yet, I could just use it to follow my favorite celebrities. Because evidently on Twitter the term following makes you feel more like a fan and less like a stalker. Even though you still are.
So I reluctantly created a Twitter account. I followed some of my favorite writers. And while I'm not much of a celebrity worshiper, I figured I needed to have a token celebrity to stalk, via the follow button, one. Just one. I think it's mandatory in the terms of use I didn't read when I signed up. So I know when said celebrity craps or eats a hot dog or eats a hot dog whilst crapping and tweeting. Oh and it's obligatory that they're hot. So who won my celebrity lottery? You'll have to go look and see who I follow on Twitter to find out. Even though I feel like a total twit doing that.
So, I'm not the best social media whore. In fact, I'm a total loser if you go by the numbers. It's way too important to me that the connections I make with people are genuine. Because in the end, I'd rather have substance than success. Ok, I'd rather have both, but I mean if I HAD to choose. Substance wins hands down.
(But if you'd like to help a little with the success part you can like my Facebook page or follow me on Twitter: Rock The Kasbah@MarieLoerzel. No pressure though. And I promise not to tweet about my poop.)
