Today, at this minute, I am sitting at my computer in my little bedroom in my daughter’s basement. Around me is practically all that I own, with the exception of a pair of shoes upstairs by the door, a coat draped on the back of a chair, and my sewing machine et al at the other end of the basement, waiting for me to use it to mend some stuff. Not my stuff. My grandkids pants or dance skirt or dress. I sit here after playing Solitaire in various forms. Answered my emails, and am now sitting Pondering Life.
Not morbidly. No no. I can’t be morbid. I have all that mending to do!!
Besides, Life is too fun to be morbid. I am just pondering.
I’m not working now, but I am looking for something to pay the bills.
I’m trying to help the family since “I’m home anyway” and can be a kid-cab.
I’m also trying hard to find the perfect literary agent that will snap up my manuscript and say, “OMG, I’ve found the next JK Rowlings!” or some other well-received author.
I am in love with the fantasy of making up worlds and populating them with people I like (or hate). I could live there for the rest of my life and I would love it if my mock crystal boxwasn’t a mock-up and could really do what the one in my pages does.
But I’m a realist enough to know that for now, I need a job. So I sit at my computer, filling out online applications because that’s what all the companies seem to want now. I haven’t gotten anything yet.
And so I check my emails. Again. Maybe there’s an invitation for a job interview.
Nope. Just the usual. Coupons from Michael’s. Shutterfly deals. Oh! someone liked a pin of mine on Pinterest! Yippee! A credit card statement is ready —I really hate getting those. And, very rarely, someone’s following me on Twitter.
Twitter. I signed up over a year ago because I was told to by a friend. Join Social Media, he said. Get your name out there. (@peggynicholls) But I don’t get it.
My editor has sent a few links to what she calls interesting Tweets. I click on the link but can’t see how to find the interesting parts. I liked it when the Robins were Tweeting outside in the backyard. I understood the birds!
Twitter… I just don’t get.
To date, I have 35 followers and most of those I don’t know. Fellow authors, a few publishing houses, a friend or two.
I don’t Tweet much as I really don’t understand the whole Twitter thing.
I talk too much to even think I can fit anything worthwhile into 140 characters. I usually can’t figure out exactly how to glean any useful information from anyone’s Tweet. Not their fault. Mine.
I don’t understand hashtags and such and just usually throw my hands up in the air and go back to my own writings.
But today was different. I got a follower that kind of put things into the right perspective. His name is Scott D. Southard and he Tweeted a link to a post in his blog, “Drowning in Tweets.” I loved reading his rendition of his start in Twitter. I found myself in his words. His confusion of the cacophony that is Twitter! Mind you, he now has a LOT more followers than I have, and he actually has published works. Maybe that will make a difference eventually, but for now, I think I’ve found a new friend who doesn’t know he’s a friend.
The first thing I learned from my new friend is that I need to Tweet about this blog. There are times that I swear I’m the only one reading them. My daughter (owner of my bedroom) has said “I can’t believe you write that. People will think you’re crazy.” (Most recently said about my translation of the Kings of Spring.) I smile and say “No one reads it anyway. I’m safe.”
So now that I seem to be given this ‘free time’ between the rock and the hard place, I’ll try to figure out what the Tweet can do for me. Maybe I’ll even figure out how to put the link to Twitter on my blog and website!
I’d love to hear your comments and please ‘follow’ the blogs! I hate to think of all my witty remarks floating aimlessly about in the void that is outer space!
And no, I’m not pouting. Much.