THE
TWITVERSE
First a
brief disclaimer: All that follows here is experience, not advice. My books are
somewhat niche products and not for everyone (say, Amanda Hocking readers). So,
nothing I say here on the ins and out of independent publishing and marketing should
be taken as “advice” until, say, I draw enough income from book sales for a
weekend in Monterey. Until then, I hope this provides the writers and indie
publishers among you with useful insight and perspective on your own situations.
With a crude
grumble, I’ve recently become a semi-frequent Twitter tweeter again.
I can’t
recall the exact date I first stuck my foot in the Twitter Stream, but it was
likely in 2010. A week passed where I tweeted articles like this and grew bored
as the tweets rushed by—like photo captions without photos--until it all blurred
like confetti and, without having drawn a single follower, I decided to sign
off. Staring into a woodland stream is enchanting. Staring into the Twitter
stream is not.
Then, seconds
from good-bye, @peterstraubnyc became
my first follower (and he’s more than welcome to crow about it up and down the
streets of Manhattan: “I stopped @ThomBurchfield from leaving Twitter!”).
So I stayed
on, all through the first six months or so after the publication of Dragon’s
Ark in April 2011. No matter how hard and loud chirped though, I found Twitter
a hard and weak branch to nest on.
While
it’s admirably simple I’d compare Twitter, at best, to a Friday night at the bar, maybe after my
third Macallan, with quips pinging and ponging back and forth, like Abbott and
Costello--but not all the time. I seemed to do more sending than receiving
while following the likes of @hodgman,
and @MrsStephenFry, and occasionally
sharing nods and pleasantries with the elusive, gossamer-winged @V_V_Nabokov.
I also
gained a few followers, the most enthusiastic, and loyal of them being @DorianTB. Others were product
purveyors—hair stylists, college-girl pornographers, and the like—who faded
away. A few political activists, too. Others claimed to be independent
publishing professionals, but only one, @jfbookman, would I openly
recommend.
I quickly
learned that, past an hour, it was no good tweeting my toe into the stream of
any topic. Tweets age like a sun-baked corpse, drying up and blowing away like
Christopher Lee at the end of Dracula . .
. and they don’t rise again, either, not even as a ghost. The T-world gushes
on, the thread of reason shreds, snaps, dangles in the Internet’s lonely deep space.
The
implication is that, once you’re on, you have to be always watching, staring,
anxious, as though the stream were a Wall Street ticker, in order to gain any value--a
little like standing on a trading floor, isn’t it, amidst all those shouts? You
might miss something, possibly life-changing. You never know, do you? I mean
walk out the door, go a few blocks, there’s a bag with a million bucks right
there on the street, right?
Once a
week, I’d link one of these essays on Twitter, along with some publicity for Dragon’s
Ark. I’d hang around for maybe fifteen minutes, half an hour, looking for
something to respond to, an intriguing link to follow.
But, I dropped
to once a week, feeling that was enough.
But, of
course, it wasn’t. Because tweets fade so quickly, I have to appear more frequently,
especially now that I have three books for sale. So, I’m back on a daily basis,
tweeting links to both my books and my essays, at least once a day, Real Life
permitting. I hang around a bit, looking for funny things to say, always
sticking with my Golden Rule: If I have nothing to say, then nothing’s what I
say.
Then it’s
back to staring at the still, blue sky outside my window.
Or: working
on my editing business and writing Butchertown which is exactly what I should
be doing.
As @BorowitzReport wisely says, “There’s
a fine line between social networking and wasting your fucking life.”
I
notice, at least judging from the 100 or so I’m following, that Twitter seems to
have become very very much an advertising and marketing medium. Easily more
than 50% of the tweets that blip past are links to books for sale, or other
services. I place links like this every day to my 84 current followers. Twitter
doesn’t seem to be a truly conversational medium.
I
especially notice heavy advertising on the i-Pad app, which I do not use!
One
more thing about Twitter: Two of the pages I post my et ceteras on, Blogger and
The Red Room, offer widgets that will display my Tweets in real time. But I don’t
use them because I don’t see the point exactly (unless Twitter is the end to
your means). If you’re reading this on my official Blogger page, you’re exactly
where I want you, and everyone, to be: reading my work and linking
to where you can buy my books. Whether you do an RSS subscription or get on
my e-mail list (tbdeluxe at sbcglobal.net), I’m hell of a lot easier to follow
than I am on Twitter.
As for
the issue of drawing and gathering followers, that’s a discussion better taken
up within the frame of Facebook,
Meaning,
you just wait ‘til next time!
Copyright
2012 by Thomas Burchfield
Photo
by author.
Thomas
Burchfield is the author of the contemporary Dracula novel Dragon's Ark,
and the original screenplays Whackers
and The Uglies (e-book editions
only). Published by Ambler
House Publishing, all are available at Amazon
in various editions. You can also find his work at Barnes
and Noble, Powell's
Books, Scribed and now at the Red Room bookstore. He also “friends” on Facebook,
tweets on Twitter and reads at Goodreads. You can also join his e-mail list via
tbdeluxe [at] sbcglobal [dot] net.
He lives in Northern California with his
wife, Elizabeth.
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