Help! My On-Line Presence Is Killing Me!

By Chris Abouzeid

When I published my first book (okay, okay—my only book) a few years ago, my editor mentioned—as a brief sidebar to our conversation about publicity and promotion—that it might be helpful to develop an on-line presence, maybe even start a blog. I responded with something like “Can we also beat my fingers with a bag of frozen anchovies every morning?” and that was the end of the conversation.

Fast forward six years. Creating an on-line presence is no longer the subject of polite sidebar discussions or even optional. Agents, editors, publishers, fellow authors, any person at all who has your literary interests at heart—even your mother!—will nag you to insanity until you roll out your blog, post your book trailer, tweet your brilliance and get your book cover pinned on as many Pinterest boards as you can.

So now I have two blogs, two Twitter handles, three Facebook pages (one for me, one for my book, one for Beyond The Margins), and a YouTube account. I don’t have the least interest in pirating images to create colorful representations of my diverse interests, but yes, I joined Pinterest, too, and am completely open to getting pinned over and over again. (Nothing says “future giant of American literature” like a “Pin me!” badge.)

Has all this digital chatter boosted sales of my book? Not really. I may have sold a dozen more copies than I would have otherwise. I’ve met a lot of nice writers, though. And there are days when my tweeps are the only things that keep me going.

But, I’m sorry to say, there are also many days when being on-line makes me feel like crap. Not dog or horse crap. Planeria crap. Remember planeria—the microscopic flatworms you can split in half and they’ll grow two heads? That’s the level of craptitude I’m talking about.

So I thought I should send out a warning to all the new authors being barraged with advice on their on-line presence: Beware! The social networks are dangerous. They can shred your self-esteem faster than a cat can shred your favorite sweater. Why? Because there are no big fish in little ponds anymore. There is only one pond, the size of an ocean, and ninety-nine percent of us are not big fish. In fact, we aren’t even brine shrimp (aka sea monkeys).

Don’t believe me? Observe:

Intelligence – You think you’re a pretty smart person. You’ve read all those books on chaos theory and fuzzy logic. You totally predicted string theory would need at least ten dimensions to create enough quantum foam to soak up all the dark matter spilled by the God particle in the last Big Splash. Then you get on Twitter and behold—there are THOUSANDS of people smarter than you. Not just smarter, but so totally hip and social and funny you don’t even get the joy of dismissing them as nerdy douchebags. If Twitter were TV, they would be the loveable stars of Big Bang Theory, and you would be just another one of Penny’s moronic boyfriends.

Creativity – You’re a fantasy author. You make up entire societies and ecosystems before you even get to plot or character. No wait—you’re a mystery writer. You create mazes of crime and clues so complex, they make quantum physics look like a Sudoku puzzle. Or maybe you’re a so-called literary writer, plumbing the depths of human nature with a box full of artisanal metaphors and handcrafted sentences. Well guess what? On Twitter, Goodreads, Facebook, Tumblr, etc., there are a million mystery writers. There are a bajillion fantasy writers. And literary authors—oh please. It’s easier to count all the termites in Africa. The worst part is, even their tweets will make you look like a Readers’ Digest drop-out.

Humor – You’ve been told your writing is hilarious—maybe by your spouse, maybe by your friends, worst case scenario, by a couple of obsequious barristas at your local coffee shop. Too bad. After five minutes on Facebook, Twitter and YouTube, you’ll realize humor has nothing to do with the written word anymore. All the truly, madly, deeply brilliant humorists—John Green, Stephen Colbert, Ron Charles, etc.—are on video. If you can’t crank out a 30 – 60 second video with brilliant acting, sound effects, subtitles and uproariously funny credits and post it to YouTube BEFORE the event you’re parodying has even ended, don’t bother trying to make a joke. Seriously. You’ll only embarrass yourself.

Looks – Okay, so you’re probably thinking this is a pretty shallow thing to worry about. I mean, it’s not like you expect people to vote you Sexiest Blogger of the Year or call you a TWILF (Tweeps I’d Like to …). And it’s not like you posted your profile pic thinking it would make all the other avis quiver with desire. But still, when you’re hit with wave after wave of gorgeous creatures—male and female—flashing across the screen, smiling, vogueing, posing in hot blue evening dresses and understated, hip jackets, and then you realize they’re not movie stars or models or porn spammers but writers—writers, just like you!—you’ll want to crawl back into your Twitter egg-atar and never come out again.

Social Impact – This is the biggy. With a lot of therapy you might be able to deal with millions of people being smarter, funnier, better looking and more creative than you. But when it comes to being one of those people who bring good into the world, you always hoped you would be near the top. Not MLK or Ghandi or Mother Theresa top, not even Eleanor Roosevelt top, but you know, Internet top. Like if there was a Google+ circle for social do-gooders, yours would be the one everyone would want to get into. If there was a Facebook page for champions of peace, you’d be the administrator. Well, sorry—the social networks are infested with do-gooders. Even writers give parts of their proceeds to charities. (Writers. Since when do they even have proceeds?) So give it up, dear noob. Unless you have eradicated malaria or found a free source of energy, you are just another Girl Scout selling cookies in the suburbs.

Okay, maybe I’m exaggerating a little here. The truth is, I’ve met some of the most incredible people through Twitter and Facebook—not just writers, but editors, agents, reviewers, teachers, doctors, lawyers, librarians, programmers, even a drummer. And I could have gone to a dozen conferences every year and not met as many talented, funny, supportive and, yes, darn good-looking writers as I’ve met in one year on Twitter. So I’d have to say the good outweighs the bad—most of the time. But others may feel differently. What do you say, my social networking friends? Are you mostly feeling the love in your on-line presence or mostly feeling insecure? Do you bounce back and forth?

(This post first appeared on Beyond The Margins on February 23, 2012.)