Friday, May 17, 2013

Too Old For Twitter And Other Shocking Developments

There's no picture. This post is meant to go against every thing I have read about being a successful writer in this day of mass media. I knew I had to write it and post it when every thing about it made me uncomfortable and I worried about people hating it. Here is my truth, I don't want to have a monetized blog or website. Money is a necessity and I know that I will make money from my writing in the near future, but not through ads or sponsors. That is someone else's gig, not mine. I want to gain readers who like my writing and find value in it. My niche? Don't have one. I write about my life and my life isn't a niche. ISO: Readers who can relate to real life.

I started to pursue building an audience by fitting into a pretty little box, but it never felt authentic. It made me feel dirty, like when I was young and I would be anyone a boy wanted me to be if he would say he liked me. Tell his friends about me. Sound familiar? Like me here, like me there, share me here and everywhere. Then I will know how important I am. Then I will be someone. I have set up thumbnails of myself all over the world wide web to find out who likes me and who will share me and I check those numbers often. Too often I have found. I let them dictate how I feel about my writing. I'm a 34 year old version of my 18 year old self, hoping I'm good enough to be LIKED. Hooray!!! Two more people that say I am okay. Two more LIKES that confirm I am a good enough writer to have self esteem today. Then I wake up to other insecurities.

A new day holds the thousands of other bloggers, writers, published authors, writers with degrees, writers with  connections, and mommy bloggers who I "need" to read. So I do. Then all the LIKES become dog shit on my Old Navy flip flop. Being smart and witty is the norm out in the blogosphere, having your own voice is a requirement, and being edgy isn't even edgy anymore. Without a few titty pics to link to Twitter, no one cares. You're UNFOLLOWED as quickly as you were LIKED and FOLLOWED. I think I met Twitter too late in life, because there is only one person who gets to see my mammary glands and you should consider yourself blessed it isn't you. I sold out too many times when I had no self esteem, I'm not selling out to get the inside scoop on whether or not I can write. I can.

Another shocking revelation? I'm too sweet for Twitter in my elderly state (I know, right)  and it only took me 24 hours to realize that. There were all these tweets going back and forth about who was funnier than who, which Twit had the best line, retweet me so I can feel like a whole person for 30 seconds. Thousands of followers for people who pick fights with complete strangers and post pics of their bare tits while bragging about how they need to be treated like a princess. It was frightening and a very clear glimpse into what our society has become. This is what we want. We then become disinterested seconds later and tune in to some other train wreck IE; jackass CEO of a clothing company, pageant moms and abusive athletes. I have become disinterested. I thought I wanted thousands of followers to my blog every day, thousands of people following my sass mouth on Twitter and eventually a published book about my crazy life. Revelation: I don't have a sass mouth, my tweets are so mild in comparison that people would assume I'm a nun. If I can have thousands of passionate followers without being a fucking sell out, I'll take it. Otherwise, I will keep blogging and writing and loving the 100 people per day who are interested.

I am done marketing myself as something I am not and if that's what I "have" to do to get published, I will publish myself. And by publish I mean print off copies at my office, staple them and sell them out of my trunk. If  my family and friends are the only ones who buy my book, well I can rest assured that at least they have fantastic taste. I want to share my writing, not spend countless hours tweeting or checking my blog stats so I can be happy. I'm happy because I write and people like it. I write because I live my life and have experiences that shock my brain and make me want to tell a story.  That's my plan. I'm going to go live and write about it.  This is the first summer in six years that I get to make my own schedule and spend everyday with my kids,  I'm taking advantage of it. I will have blog posts, when I feel like it. I will honor my commitment to websites I contribute to. I won't be Tweeting nude pics or hourly updates and my Facebook page will return to the random shit you have come to love. No recipes or running tips. No links to shit you can find on your own. Just me and maybe a shameless plug for my blog. I'm weaning myself off so I can put one foot in front of the other and write a book for you to read. You know, like they did in the old days.

Written by Mandy Brasher owner/author of Busy Being Happy 2013 (Because people be some plagiarizing motherfuckers)

5 comments:

  1. Man boobs are where it's at, Mandy. I think they're called man twoobs if you share them on Twitter.

    On the serious side, Twitter trumps all the others as a way to (mostly) get and (sometimes) share information for me. You just have to be careful about who you follow and not care about if people are going to follow you.

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    1. You are completely correct. On both fronts...I'm a huge fan of moobs. The Twitter scenario turns me into an old mom (that I never thought I would become) who says ridiculous things like "What would your father say if he saw you in that pic? Go to your room, young lady."

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  2. Well said Mandy! All of it. I too am Illtwitterate.
    You may count me as the one hundred and first interested reader if you'd like...
    Kind Regards, Larry

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  3. Welcome to our weird little club, Larry!!! I'm glad to find other folks who are behind the times with Twitter....I will only understand it when it's completely outdated. Like 8 track tapes.

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