Social Media: A Situation Report

Time has been a precious commodity lately.

I've been nailed with a two developmental edits for two upcoming books at the same time, plus I had to write a 70 page novella for the mystery collective I belong to, and add to this a re-edit of an already published novel and my normal duties as a journalist and I'm about ready for the funny farm.

What did Hemingway once pen? "No one can work everyday...without going stale."

But hey, business is business, and while I have a nice advance riding on at least one of the two aforementioned books (more money than I made in an entire year five years ago), I'm not shirking my duties. However, I have noticed myself getting more and more agitated with the social media and the persistent onslaught of useless information that bombards me not day in and day out, but minute in and minute out.

No, I do not wish to be invited to play a Game of Thrones or whatever it's called.
No, I do not wish to like your "I love Fluffy Cats" page
No, I don't care about your impromptu selfie snapped in the office bathroom
No, I don't care that after twenty glorious years of marriage you and the hubby are still in love.
No, I don't care that the old girlfriend has a new boyfriend.
And for God's sakes, please don't IM me unless the house is burning down around you. Even then it might take me a while to respond.
As for texting me without being invited to text? You're risking your life here...

Okay, I can hear you loud and clear, "You're one to talk Zandri!" and it's all too true. I'm not casting cyber stones so much as I'm realizing the utter time suck and futility of the social media networks (don't forget to add in useless emails here...). Christ, you can't even pimp your books on Facebook anymore without having to pay out the ass for the, ummmm, privilege.

I think there was a time, not all that long ago, where social media played a vital role in an author's promotion. It got our names out there on a global level, and if our work was any good, we gathered many new fans and sold a few books. Some of those fans even became friends. Some of those good friends live in far away places like Moscow, Cairo, Florence, and many other places. I've never met some of these friends, but a few I have, and that is the beauty of social media.
But when it comes to the everyday posting of useless information, I find it to be a distraction of immense proportions and I'm more inclined lately to turn the damn thing off altogether while I tend to my work.

Okay, so much for my rant about social media. Time to finish this essay and get it out there on Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest, Google+, ...

www.vincentzandri.com

Author Elyse Press Major Violates the VOX (In a good way!)

Elyse Press Major, showing us her right brain...

I've known Elyse Press Major for thirty years now (Okay, let's get this over with ... when she was a still a "minor" ... baddump bump). Well, to be more accurate, I should say I shared a brief friendship with Elyse back in the mid-1980s when we were both college students in Providence, RI. I was in a really bad punk rock band and the manual typewriter I kept on my desk in my red-lamp-lit, cigarette clouded, studio dorm room that overlooked what seemed to be the only wood in the city, click-clacked volumes regarding a future that, at the time, was still a great and wild unknown. Elyse and I often talked books and writers and writing, but mostly we talked about bands like Echo and the Bunnymen (sic?) and what shows were coming to the area's premier stage, The Living Room. I lost touch with Elyse after a short time, which is as common for young people as are defaulted student loans, until one day she reappeared for me on, what else, but FB. Imagine my shock and surprise when it turns out she's a writer, and successful one at that. I could only think and grin and recall that typewriter set out on the desk in that tiny little room that overlooked the trees. After a few minutes of thinking, it all made sense. Of course, Elyse is a writer. Having carved out a niche for herself in the "tinkering" and "home crafts" section of your local Barnes and Nobles (and arguably every newsstand in the country from Portland O to Portland M), the still youthful writer produces colorful and stunning coffee table books that aren't for decoration only. They are as well written as they are fun for the whole fam damily, as they say. Here's a guest post Elyse penned for the Vox. You won't find any homespun advice on how to make a sock puppet, but instead you might find something sculpted from her more philosophical right brain. With that, I give you, Elyse Press Major:

Knowing Me, Knowing You

“Wrong, a long time ago we knew each other for a short period of time; you don't know anything about me. “

Nick, The Big Chill

Even though I embraced blogging early on I was late to join the rest of the social media party, wary of it being the ultimate “worlds collide.” Facebook seemed like a toxic potpourri of former co-workers, family members and old boyfriends -- who could care about my every thought the second I had it? And MySpace looked messier and sounded noisier than my high school bedroom.

Then I attended a memorial service for the father of a dear old boyfriend. It was truly lovely to lay my eyes on so many faces I hadn’t seen in years. Over and over I heard, “You should get on Facebook to stay in touch.” Reluctantly I started an account that evening. Within minutes Friend Requests came out of the virtual woodwork. Some from faces I hadn’t seen in thirty years! One request from a woman who had ignored me hours earlier at the memorial service; I decided not to “let her in” to my new alterna-reality.

Cut to just a few years later and admittedly Facebook along with Twitter and Pinterest are regular parts of my day as a work-at-home writer seeking not only water-cooler interaction but publicity work as the admin for multiple pages. In the myriad of new platforms popping up daily somehow Facebook has become the “comfy slippers” but I do have my “walls” of what I will and will not share, and there are trust issues to be sure. While I’m happy to heckle parts of my own day or share a staged meal or view of the moon, I never share images of my children or their whereabouts.

One night I went to see that same old boyfriend play in his band and the night club was filled with people from Facebook. I had to chuckle as I could mentally assign minutia to people without even having had an out-loud conversation. He must be tan from that recent trip to Aruba. Boy, that sandwich sure looked good. She’s a Republican?!

Curiously some of these online friendships are becoming stronger now than ever. Like the cheerleader I don’t think I ever spoke to in high school who is now a great supporter of my work, the neighbor with whom I’ve bonded over a shared addiction to flavored seltzer and magazines, and the noir thriller author I dated for a few weeks in ’84 who has become a trusted mentor.

BIO

Elyse Press Major is the author of two craft books, Tinkered Treasures and Seaside Tinkered Treasures (CICO Books). An accomplished writer, Elyse regularly contributes features and articles to magazines such as Romantic Homes, Romantic Country and French Country Style. Visit Elyse at tinkeredtreasures.com and on Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest.

www.vincentzandri.com