I've always considered myself a birdbrain, but I just don't get Twitter. With or without an understanding of how it works, I (sort of) get that it's a good marketing tool, if for no other reason than you can overexpose the heck out of yourself on it and make a ginormous ass of yourself in a hurry. Sounds like something from which I should run far and fast. Very far. Very fast.
However, recent events have spurred me to join Twitter. (Wait... Do you "join" it, like Facebook?) Okay, more accurately, someone a lot smarter than I am told me, "You need to get on Twitter. Now." Then I whined about it and said I didn't understand the point and said that I don't have anything to say on there and said a bunch of other things that basically confirmed my ignorance about anything having to do with social media and marketing. My lame arguments got me nowhere. They did get me a harsh reminder, however, of how much my marketing sucks and how I should probably listen to someone who knows a little something about it.
Minutes later, I was the proud owner of a Twitter account. BreaBrown3 has arrived. I've been informed that the three previous BreaBrowns on Twitter are... interesting, so make sure if you want to follow the most boring tweeter (ha! I know that term!) on the planet that you follow @BreaBrown3 (ooh, score another one for me, for the crazy Twittery "at" symbol thing... I think). My avatar (hee hee) is the cover of The Secret Keeper.
So, Smart Guy (who will remain nameless, because I plan to take major liberties with how this really went down so that he looks like a bully and not the person who's saving me from perpetual anonymity) said, "Okay, you need to start following some people." Following. I'm good at that. "That way," he continued, "when you interact with them, the people who follow them can start to follow you, if they like what you say." At least, I think that's what he said. I mostly heard, "Blah, blah, blah... people will think you're a moron... blah, blah, blah... and here's the key to the secret language that you'll never understand... blah, blah, blah..."
I was already lost. But I pretended like I was on top of it, because up until this point, he still thought I had a brain (a short-lived misconception, for sure). "Got it." LIAR!!!
There was a lull in the Twitter convo (during which he was frantically setting up my account for me before I chickened out), so when he came back to me a few minutes later and asked, "What authors do you like?" I thought we were onto more interesting topics and tossed out, "Jane Austen." He informed me that Jane Austen probably isn't a big tweeter. We laughed at my stupidity off and on for the next... hell, we're still laughing about it.
See? I can't do this. I'm too dumb to do this! I can't even pick a legitimate person to follow. And I so routinely make an idiot of myself in everyday situations that this can only bring about more humiliation. Facebook gives me plenty of electronic opportunities for that.
Smart Guy pushed on, though. He even posted my first tweet, which sounded nothing like me. I promptly pointed that out to him, but he said, "We're going to attempt to make you sound classy." Oh, great. So he's setting me up to fail. Big-time. I wouldn't know "classy" if it dive-bombed me with serviettes and shrimp forks. See? I can't even think of classy things to be dive-bombed with. Smart Guy says this is because I'm from Missouri. But the joke's on him... because I'm originally from Kentucky. Ha!
Since my first tweet (and then another unauthorized tweet by Smart Guy that made me continue to look classy), I've taken charge of my own account and have "followed" 24 people. I have THREE followers. This is working out great so far (sarcasm heavily intended).
I'm also thoroughly overwhelmed any time I go on there and look at my tweet feed. (I don't care if that's not what it's called. That's what I'm calling it.) The people I'm following seem to have nothing better to do than hang out on Twitter all day long and speak to no one in particular in this freaky language that involves the type of symbols that used to be reserved for curse words in Beetle Bailey comic strips. Are they cussing me out? Are they cussing someone else out? Who the heck is their audience? Do they even care?
Now, Smart Guy promises to teach me all about Twitter, because he's not going to let me give it up. But he's busy (cuz he's smart), so in the meantime, I have to just stay away from it, because it's stressing me out.
Plus, I have nothing "classy" to say.
I'm much more comfortable writing real words in works of fiction. You can find all my published works on Amazon. I also have a Facebook page. Come on over and say hello. In English. With no symbols.