There are a lot of daunting tasks when one decides to self-publish a novel. Write a novel. Edit it. Send it to beta readers. Revise it. Edit again. Design a book cover. Format it. Review every single word that appears between the front and back cover. Determine a launch date.
And market it. Yeah, market it.
I’ve attended writing conferences and workshops, and every time a presenter talks about marketing, a general groan arises from the attendant writers. Why? Because most writers prefer to bury their noses in books than to try to sell them. It also doesn’t help that the workshops are dominated by a slightly aging demographic for whom the idea of book marketing via Twitter or TikTok is even more difficult to grasp than finding the mute button during a group zoom call.
I have a checkered history with social media, or any type of socialization actually. In my teens and twenties, I buffered social anxiety with alcohol. Lots of it. Once I quit drinking, large parties went by the wayside, and I spent most of my time with friends, no need for small talk.
I’ve lived around the world; making friends is easy. But maintaining friendships is much harder. In the good old pre-internet, pre-cell phone days, I said tearful good-byes to people far away, knowing I might never see them again. It took effort to keep in touch via written letters and occasional phone calls. I didn’t keep up. Then Facebook came around, and suddenly I was able to reconnect with friends from whom I hadn’t heard in years, even decades.
Never on the front lines of culture, I joined Facebook late in 2013, the last of my family, in time to learn about the US government’s practice of mass surveillance of its citizens using their social media and internet data. My husband, born a cynic and suspicious about human nature from the get-go, quit all social media. My kids soon followed. That left me in an anxiety-riddled quandary. Do I sacrifice these rekindled friendships in a vain (no escape possible!) attempt at keeping my life to myself? Or do I jump in and reach out to the world with a virtual hug?
Neither. I kept my Facebook activity to a minimum, posting the obligatory family trips and birthday celebrations, engaging with few, spending as little time as possible on it. Ditto for Instagram, which I joined a few years later. I managed a push-pull relationship with social media. As soon as I felt its pull, I pushed away. And with every post I wondered which data of mine the government was harvesting.
Yeah, I know. Paranoid much?
I’ve always harbored darkness. My identical twin sister, Luke to my Anakin, doesn’t struggle with the dark side like I do. She jumps into the light side of life with both feet, choosing to see the best in people and situations. I, like my husband, do not.
In 2019, when I began to focus on writing creatively and discovered that I wanted to write and publish, it became clear that I’d have to push past my phobias and engage with social media. In early 2020, I set up a Twitter account, which, for the next two years, baffled me. I followed some of my favorite authors and scrolled through the site watching happy animal videos but really had no idea what to do on it. Remember, I’m not great at small talk.
In the meantime, Covid blasted apart our lives, George Floyd and Breanna Taylor were murdered, and social media became more toxic than ever. As the pandemic, social injustice and our world’s reactions steamrolled society, I sank into a deep, deep funk and watched family and friends struggle with their own mental health. If the pandemic proved anything, it’s that isolation isn’t healthy. We need connections. We need personal interaction. People, young and old, need socialization. But social media, which could have kept us connected and could have fostered community, became a place of dissension and distrust. Every time I visited Facebook, I left in despair.
“Just ignore the negative stuff!”
Sage advice from well-meaning friends and family. Ignore the conflict. Ignore my churning mind. Did they think this didn’t occur to me?
But, and feel free to confirm with my husband, I can’t let go of shit. I am somewhat obsessive. Fixated, even. Inequities, injustice, injuries! They sit and stew in my mind, an endless saturation of thoughts in which I fix the issue, fix the person, fix the hurt.
Or make it worse.
In late 2020, to borrow a term from the video-gaming community, I rage quit Facebook. In reality, it wasn’t rage but a realization that social media wasn’t going to change. I wasn’t going to change. I needed to get it out of my face and out of my head. World news was bad enough that I didn’t need to log in to find out what new divisions now faced us.
Immediately relieved, pressure cooker turned off, I kept my Instagram alive with photos of hikes (no vacations because, you know, Covid) and continued to scroll through Twitter enjoying the conversations and wondering how the hell people knew what to say on it. But my habit of scrolling without posting caught the ire of the Twitter gods, and they limited my account due to suspicious activity. I was a bot, they said. I tried to correct them, but after my angry ALL CAP response to a customer service rep, they relegated me to the bot bin.
I set up a new account, one from which I vowed to post regularly, from which I would regale the world with my writing and words.
And then Elon Musk took over Twitter.
Sigh….
If there’s one thing that annoys me, it’s pudgy white men with lots of money (sorry, chubby white billionaires!). And especially pudgy white men who complain about the inconveniences of wealth and excess.
If you recall, the Pillsbury Dough Boy of Twitter took offense at a number of journalists calling attention to the very public flight information of his private jet. He went on a banning spree in the manner of Oprah handing out cars. “You get a Twitter ban! And you get a Twitter ban! And you! You too get a Twitter ban!”
The Marshmallow Man’s tears affected me.
Moved by his plight I felt compelled to respond. I wrote a reply.
But before I hit send, my finger hovered over the button. I’d never before sent a negative tweet. I’d left Facebook due to negativity, and here I sat, about to insult a man I didn’t know. It’s not that he’d care. I had five followers and nothing I did attracted attention. Weren’t his lackeys occupied by real concerns? Actual hate speech that threatened and intimidated?
He’d probably never see it. But if I hit send, I’d cross the line, move into negative territory. I’d join the ranks of those rabble-rousers whose comments regularly bash those with whom they don’t agree.
I hit send and logged off, disturbed that I’d crossed over to the dark side but intrigued as to what I’d find when I next logged in.
Turns out the thick guy has thin skin. He banned me until I repented. I left Twitter.
Where does that leave me? Where does that leave this writer who’s trying to engage readers and build community? Twitter is where most writers are. But I won’t go back. I have a Mastodon account filled with pleasant and engaging posts by writers who don’t insult each other. Yeah, kind of boring, but it’s what I need. I’m not trying to engage in arguments but build an audience. While negativity attracts a certain type of person or reader, that’s not my target market.
I write about difficult issues and wounded characters but always include a dose of humor. When I bring negativity into my stories, it’s to shine a light on it, to expose our challenges and build hope for change. Hope that we can change. I don’t want to foster bad feelings or ill will. Though not one to shrink away from conflict (except, perhaps, with a big hairy spider), I prefer humor to didactics, slapstick to slap fights (looking at you, Dana White), and a belly laugh to a good cry. Humor provides balance, so if I’m going to take my writing so seriously, I’ll at least laugh while I’m doing it.
Building a presence on social media is a step towards reaching more readers, and I’ll do my best despite long odds and my own nature. My books don’t fall into definitive genres like romance, thriller or young adult novels (more on this topic in the future but writing for a specific genre is a #1 priority for indie authors, and I’ve already fallen short). I’ll forge ahead and see where I end up because that’s just what I do. See you online.
Update: Tail of Humanity
Editorial section
Amazing how a good edit can strengthen a story! I’ve gotten Tail of Humanity back from the editor and now have a few tasks to do to. We’re speaking this week to discuss it, but I really don’t have much to question because she hit the nail on the head in so many ways. I’m actually very excited about these last edits and got a jumpstart on them this morning.
My day job is keeping me busy, so time is valuable! I may start to post a few passages or lines from the book as teasers, so keep an eye out.
Covering the Book
They say that you can design your own book cover, and I say, “who the heck’s got time for that?” I’ve also never felt competent in the visual arts arena, so, when I heard that I could hold a contest to have my book designed, I jumped at the chance. In the past five days I’ve looked at over 200 different designs by more than 50 designers and found myself verily overwhelmed.
Wow, what concepts and creativity. I have been blown away by the artists and their different takes on the same story. I should have a final design by the end of the week. I narrowed it down to six finalists and am working with them to fine tune options. Tomorrow, I’ll send out a poll to my trusted friends and family, and I should have a final design by Wednesday. I can’t wait for the big reveal!
Update: Shadows on the Heart
Ah, the unseen novel. Only one other set of eyes have read through its pages, and I’ve got some work left to do. My goal is to publish this one in November. Given the pace of publishing Tail of Humanity, I think it’s doable. It’s been a much tougher novel to write in some ways, with three different narrators and story lines, but the narrators are human! Stay tuned for the back of the book blurb and more thoughts about this one as the months roll on.
I'm sure you'll find that many of your readers can relate to your relationships with social media. I feel much the same as you do. It was, after all, popularized by a legion of middle schoolers who never learned how to work out their issues face-to-face. It's no wonder that social media is filled with unchecked rancor. But here's the thing, It can also be a delightful source of connecting with the people you mentioned in your story. Friends old and new who delight in one another's family and life updates. Personally, I'm not much of a poster. I'm more of a follower and a commenter. But I really, really do love being connected with friends. And you're so right about how much the pandemic exposed the need for human connection. Isolation is muy malo.
Otherwise, social media is a necessary component of professional communications these days, and thankfully, that task in my work life is relegated to others. The people that are good at it, are really good at it and there are a number of good webinars online to learn how to promote yourself in an authentic way. So I wish you well cousin and thank you for your witty repartee. It is a joy to read what you are producing these days.