Posts Tagged ‘this blog’
[The title of this post is supposed to be read in the voice of Henchman 21 from The
I used to have a Google alert on myself. You know, because of all the reviews and blogs and whatnot. Then I got rid of my Google alert. Because of all the reviews and blogs and whatnot.
Given the practically infinite size of the Internet, it is statistically a near certainty that at any given moment someone somewhere on it is calling me a dick. Which is totally fine. It may even be true. But the weird thing about it is that when people talk smack about me they do it as if I can’t hear them. I feel like if someone’s going to call me a douchebag, they’re going to do it anyway, but they would at least do it in a different way if I were in the room with them.
Which owing to the nature of the Internet I am. Except it doesn’t generic zithromax gluten free seem like that to them — it seems like I’m off in some other universe somewhere where I can’t hear them. I think this is partly because I write for Time, and I publish books through a big fat entrenched New York publisher, which means that my words tend to appear in glossy packages that were obviously designed and printed by massive soulless corporations. That has the effect of making me seem like some bloated plutocrat who looks like the Monopoly guy.
Which is totally wrong. I don’t have a mustache.
And I don’t want people to think of me that way. I want to be in the room. Being a writer without a blog is like being a ghost at your own funeral. You’re there, and yet you’re not. And then you overhear your best friend say, ‘sure, he was a decent guy, but it’s not like it’s a national tragedy or anything. ooh, look, mini-pizzas!’ Which—cool ghost powers aside—who wants that?
So here I am.
Actually I’m stabbing at you from a coffee shop in beautiful rainy Ann Arbor, where I went to film one of these.
I do that a lot anyway. But there isn’t usually a cameraman there. I will post the results when they’re ready, except if they’re shameful, in which case I’ll disavow them.
So because I am an author, I have to have a ‘social media strategy,’ which is one reason I started this blog. Though I’ll tell you a weird thing: I fricking love this blog, and it is getting more and more difficult to pry myself away from it. I also tweet.
So far so good. But now I realize I need to deal w/ Facebook, too. So I’ve started paying attention to my Facebook profile. And I set up a Facebook fan page. For myself. Which felt weird, but I powered through it anyway.
And see, this is where it all started falling apart. There was already a Facebook page for me. It was nice — it flowed in any status updates that mention me, including my own, and my Wikipedia entry buy zithromax online overnight shipping (which I hate, but haven’t edited so when I die I can still get into WikiHeaven) — but I couldn’t figure out who created it. Or maybe it spontaneously generated itself.
So I started a new one. But it doesn’t pick up status updates about or by me. In fact it looks crappy and has no fans. Now I’m asking myself, as I do every day, why can I not be more like Neil Gaiman and Patrick Rothfuss? And not just, you know, the hair. Though that would be a start.