Getting the Word Out: The Taylor Swift Equation

A couple months ago, James Franco wrote a fantastic piece for The New York Times on selfies, those self-generated glam shots you can post of, yes, yourself doing whatever and in which you think someone might be interested.  It's only a dyslexic step away from Twitter, come to think of it, only completely visual.  Read Franco's article all the way through; this is one smart guy.  Above all, he's an entertainer and understands the draw of--and our fascination with--celebrity.  If you remember nothing else of what he says (and granted, we're talking about a celebrity who understands image and how to generate the illusion of intimacy), this is your take-home: 

"In this age of too much information at a click of a button, the power to attract viewers amid the sea of things to read and watch is power indeed. It’s what the movie studios want for their products, it’s what professional writers want for their work, it’s what newspapers want — hell, it’s what everyone wants: attention. Attention is power. And if you are someone people are interested in, then the selfie provides something very powerful, from the most privileged perspective possible."  (emphasis mine)

Successful entertainers understand the value of attention and how to grab it.  You want an example of someone who's a master?  Taylor Swift.  I kid you not.  Maybe four months before Franco's piece came out--or it might have been longer--I recall listening to an NPR piece on social media and Twitter, and the reporter singled out Swift as someone who really understood how to use social media effectively.  She specifically mentioned that Swift was excellent at mixing in the private moment to further a public agenda.  The example she gave was Swift tweeting something like, oh, making sugar cookies because I'm so happy my latest single was just released.  (I'm paraphrasing here.)  And Swift is very good at this; take a look at this photo montage of her and Kelly Osborne making chocolate peppermint cookies.  

Now the reporter suggested that Swift is comfortable with this because she grew up with it.  Maybe . . . but in this publicity arms race--and it is an arms race; all of us are constantly upgrading and scrambling after the next best thing, which writers have doing since Dickens single-handedly started the celebrity-author tour and authors before him gave lectures to drum up publicity for their other works--I'd suggest that Swift, like Madonna and other consummate entertainers, understand the value of the attention-grab.  Do these people blog?  Not only your life.  Swift tweets; she knows the people she wants to reach only want/need that much.  What she and other entertainers like her do is trade on image, understanding that their image is what fans want because it furthers the sense of pseudo-intimacy: a carefully scripted, ostensibly "private" moment.

For a while now, I've been talking about marketing, the value of certain venues, etc.  Boil it down to its essentials, and what I've been talking about is grabbing attention for you and your work.  (An important distinction: grabbing attention for you is not necessarily the same as snatching this for your work just as different platforms draw the attention of different audiences.)

In her business blog this past Thursday, Kris Rusch talks about the usefulness of social media; as always, she's spot on.  Although I'd suggest that everything on the Internet is potentially a social media site, and that includes your blog.  The folks who might stroll by are not necessarily the same people who will admire a Sunday cake or pictures of your cats.  So, again, we're talking developing your idea of a target audience and which venue best gets whatever you want your message to be across.  (I also disagree, just a tad, with Rusch's points about teens and Facebook.  Yes, it's true that the majority of American teens don't find you on Facebook, and there's some data to suggest that teens are ditching Facebook for other social media sites, specifically Instagram, Snapchat, and--in my experience--Tumblr.  But that doesn't apply to all teens.  Specifically, all those kids I met overseas a couple years back found and have stuck with me through Facebook, on which we routinely interact.)    

Yet what Rusch describes in terms of publisher expectations has been my experience, too.  Now, neither publisher has ever told me how many times I must blog or tweet or Facebook or whatever, but I was told I had to mount a website, get on Twitter and Facebook, and "join the conversation."  For the longest time, I had zero idea of what that meant.  I thought it meant figuring out key websites--you know, the ones that might have bearing on what I was doing--and then jumping in with comments.  (Remember I mentioned in an earlier post how bloggers look at blogrolls to see who you're following, and (for some of them) if you're following the right people?  So that's what I was doing: trying to follow the "right" people the same way a new kid tries to figure out who's with the popular crowd.  It's actually all rather sophomoric.  Anyway, I did that for a while, but I couldn't see the utility, plus it took a lot of time and, frankly, a ton of those sites catered to books in the wrong age and demographic.  I certainly didn't see that I was adding anything to the conversation, and we all remember high school, right?  The more you wanted to hang with the popular girls, the harder they made it for you.  

Then I wised up and realized: the idea was that I should be the one getting the conversation going, not some random voice chiming in about whom no one else gave a damn.  (People may still not give a damn, but I can live with that.)  I would have to become an entertainer of sorts, someone who could walk into a crowded room, get the ball rolling, and start to turn eyes my way.

Oh . . . is that all?

Look, not everyone can do this.  Most of us don't have the gazillion assistants standing by to take that perfect Taylor Swift glam shot (or Franco's compositional sense).  Some of us are shy.  I, for one, have zero ability to vamp for the camera.

So what this means is that, regardless of which media you choose, you have to understand what's required to get the most out of it.  If you want to do selfies, then you might follow Franco's lead, carefully titrating the personal and non-personal, for example.  (It also helps if you don't hate the way you take pictures; I have a supremely goofy smile.)  In other words, you have to give some serious thought about how to make the media work for you instead of you struggling to figure out what the media's for--or worse, working against it.

Take Twitter.  I forget who said that it's a place where writers can connect with other writers . . . and I've certainly never thought of it that way for myself, but I have noticed that the most popular folks do what Rusch also points out: the best tweets are funny.  Author Maureen Johnson knows how to do this; she also does things I wouldn't dream of because they're just not in my nature.  For example, I remember a tweet a couple years back of her newly painted toenails.  Me, I have ugly feet.  (Frankly, I think that anyone who looks at her own feet and doesn't laugh . . .  I'd never dream of posting a picture of my toenails.  Opossums, sure.  Cats and cakes and orchids?  No sweat.  But my toes?)  It works for Johnson, though, because she knows how to work it--and she's having fun.  Or she's appearing to, which is all that matters.  Appearances are all that matter when it comes to the truly ephemeral nature of most social media.  

Rusch makes this point, too; if you're going to do social media, for God's sake, have some fun while you're at it.  Yes, yes, it's marketing; it's work . . . but it is also your chance to let your hair down a little.  My co-blogger Jordan Dane tweets bon mots as she watches Sleepy Hollow.  Me, I'd miss half the show while trying to keep my tweets pithy and sweet--although, lately, I'm not above getting all snarkazoid about House of Games.  Of course, that show is something I can watch when I've got time, so I don't have to multi-task.   I have a publisher-friend who gathers up all her Facebook buddies to watch American Idol together.  I once had the experience of FBing during a Packer playoff game; it was totally random and thoroughly fun.

Random is the key there, too.  Think about this: a post to Snapchat disappears within ten seconds--and teens love this site.  So you're talking about grabbing teens with the attention span of gnats.  Which means humor works.  The outrageous works, and the shocking.  It also means that snagging anyone's attention is thoroughly random . . . at least in that venue and maybe in them all.

Paying attention to audience is also important.  The teens who adore Snapchat--and given my experience of them, I'd say that would be most--are not going to come to your blog to read what you have to say.  They're just not; they don't care.  For them, your blog/website is the gateway; they will come to find you so they can get a conversation they care about started.

Read that again: teens and most fans will come to your blog in order to talk to you about what they care about.  They are not coming to your blog to talk about what you care about--at least, not initially.  (That can happen.  It certainly has for me.  I've had some wonderful interactions with kids over environmental issues, for example, and after posts on Facebook, I would add.)  But I know these same kids are not spending the time to really read anything I say (especially when they ask questions that I've written whole long blogs about) . . . but that's okay.  I've come to accept that, for teens and most young adult fans, my website is a place for them to find out how to talk to me.  

And that's just fine.  I can live with that.  What I have to decide is something we all must: how many platforms; what content for which; and how much time we really want to give this.  Marketing/grabbing attention/vying for power is time-consuming.  You can trick yourself into thinking that it is work, and as valuable as, say, a finished short story or novel.

But blogging is not work.  Flitting around various social media platforms is not work.  Writing is work.  Producing that book is your work.  Without your books, you're just another person who's always wanted to be a writer.  You could be anybody and everyone.  You have to make people care about your books, and in order for that to happen, you have to write them.  Call it the Taylor Swift equation, if you want, but bear in mind that the only reason a gazillion eyes care about Taylor Swift's cookies is because she's Taylor Swift.  Without her songs, Taylor Swift is nobody but another lady in an apron.

Getting the Word Out, Continued

Last week, I took my cue from Kris Rusch’s business blog on discoverability to talk about the task of getting the word out about your book, especially in an era when traditional publishers may be doing less and relying much more on you, the writer, to market yourself. (That imperative is, by the way, why most of us writers have blogs and do social media.) Certainly, marketing yourself is nothing new. Talk to any writer who’s been around a while or her agent, and one of the things publishing houses used to want to know was whether you’d go on tour—and, by extension, if you were the kind of writer a publisher could send out there. Not all writers could/can. Some folks are excruciatingly shy; others are boors; some pick the worst times to get drunk; a couple may be hygienically challenged . . . you get the picture. But the idea was that giving folks a chance to connect with a writer—especially those all-important booksellers—would really help readers discover a book. 

That personal connection was important, and still is because what we’re really talking about is word of mouth. In the olden days—like a couple years ago when Borders and Waldens and indies were going strong—that word of mouth was frequently a real live person at a real live story pressing a real book into a customer’s hands. Booksellers got to know their clientele. Conversely, writers formed relationships with booksellers and, if they were very savvy, with their readers that they then maintained. Nowadays, people have blogs, right? Well, way back then, many writers sent out newsletters. Some still do in lieu of or addition to blogs; I know of at least a few because I’ve received them. (Why? Simple: I wrote these writers fan letters a while back, and they responded with newsletters. I’ve been on their mailing lists ever since. Now…have I read the newsletters? No. Why? I wasn’t interested. I know: terrible but true. I didn’t care about pictures of a writer’s dogs or where an author went on vacation. In fact, I rarely pay attention to personal stuff like that, but I don’t think I’m typical that way. Many readers do care about that kind of thing, and I certainly understand it. It’s the same kind of curiosity that I might have about, oh, an actor I like.)

These days, of course, those kinds of very personal connections—where someone presses a book into your hands—are much rarer. In the case of teens, especially, I’m thinking that librarians are the folks who have always fit that job description. They’re the people who know what’s out there and they know their kids; there is, in fact, no greater gift a librarian can give than to hand a kid a book (and this is something I’ve written about, too). Having hung around a bunch of librarians, I’ve discovered that word of mouth is what it’s all about. Librarians bring in speakers; they do book talks; they point teachers to new books; they place books on display that they think are worthwhile. Come right down to it, libraries are the bookstores of tomorrow, and probably one of the few venues where kids will actually continue to be able to come into contact with physical books.

So word of mouth is key, and I was reminded of this just the other day. I was at some party, and we were talking about books we’d read recently. A couple titles came up, and more often than not, the response from folks who hadn’t read a particular work was something like, oh yeah, I’ve heard good things about that. Press just a tad more, and you come to find that, say, a friend mentioned a book, or a friend of a friend, a librarian, a work colleague. Not one person mentioned that she’d seen an ad or book trailer; that he’d read a blog or seen a post on Facebook or gotten into a Twitter conversation. One or two said they’d read a review (none of these were blog reviews). The overwhelming majority of responses revolved around word of mouth—and only rarely was this online word of mouth.

On the other hand, I wonder if this isn’t a problem with the target demographic. Remember, it was a party of adults not teens, and I know for a fact that, other than I, none of these other adults uses social media at all. 

So it’s more than likely that teens, who have the fastest thumbs in the known universe, might have a different answer about how they get or transmit their information—pass on a recommendation via word of mouth—online. In fact, a very recent Harris Poll suggests that many people do use social media with the express purpose of influencing others. I know I do; I regularly put up tweets and Facebook about environmental causes because I want to bring these things to people’s attention. Hang around Facebook or Twitter long enough, and you realize that trying to get people to come around to your point of view is frequently what a lot of posters are after. 

A cursory search—and I do mean, bare-bones fast and dirty reading of a couple abstracts—regarding the importance of online word of mouth gives contradictory data. One study suggests it has zilch impact (which I find very hard to believe) while another, looking specifically at sales and the impact of reviews on sites such as Amazon.com, concludes that the more reviews there are, the better and that negative reviews have a far greater impact on sales than overwhelmingly positive reviews. I had to step back from that one for a second, too, and think about it, especially that bit about the impact of negative reviews . . . and you know, I think that’s right. I know that if I see an even split in reviews, I tend to go to the three- and two-stars. Now maybe that’s because I’m a Freudian and the glass is always half-full . . . but I don’t believe that any book is flawless, mine included. So I pay attention to the less-than-rapturous reviews. 

That actually reminded me of a ploy one author, who shall remain nameless, tried a couple years back. Through Goodreads, the writer offered the full text of a new ebook to anyone who wanted it prior to its date of sale with the proviso that you, the reader, would agree to leave a review (good or bad) on Amazon. I admit; I was intrigued, so I asked for a copy. Well, I hated the book. I hated the book so much I couldn’t, in all conscience, leave that kind of review because, being an author, I just couldn’t do that to another writer. So I wrote to the author, explained my reasoning, and that was that. 
On the other hand, I now understand that author’s strategy. Is it a good one? Well, that writer sure thinks so, and Amazon sales of that author’s titles would certainly support that.

If the goal, then, is to generate word of mouth, how can I, Mere Mortal Writer, help that along? Sure, trade reviews can be gold (or killers, if no one likes the book). But it seems to me that, taking into account that writer’s Amazon ploy, we’re after volume here. We want to do things that will increase visibility. Now, for some writers, that may mean offering the book up for a read and review. I’ve seen writers offer the first x-number of pages or chapters for free while others might give away the first book in a series. (In 2008, Neil Gaiman tried a variation of that ploy with American Gods by getting his publisher to give away the ebook for a month—and, yeah, the book still did well once the giveaway was over and people had to pay again.) 

But we still come around to the same problem: as any decent businessman will tell you, consumers rely on the opinions of people they trust. In the olden days, this meant they trusted friends . . . i.e., real live flesh-and-blood people they actually knew. But these days--with all these different platforms and social media available--what constitutes a friend? What are the parameters of trust? Think about it. The trust I have in friends--people I actually see and know--is very different than the trust I might have in people I know only through an online presence. I would, for example, never give out personal information--my birthdate or address or the names of my kids--on the Internet. So what kinds of "friends" are we talking about anyway, and how far do we let them influence us? (Do people even realize or stop to think that many, many of the tweets they see are generated by Twitter bots? That a computer program can generate the illusion of popularity?)

Conversely, how do you decide which platform(s) to use? Because, let's face it, no one platform fits all needs or hits the right audiences. Yes, I use Twitter and Facebook (and the latter more than the former), but I've yet to figure out how to best make use of Tumblr or, for that matter, Instagram. 

And there is also the issue of time: every moment I'm using social media or writing this blog is time I take away from writing a book, and you have the problem of diversifying your message. For example, what you post to Twitter might not be what you post to Facebook or Tumblr; or if you do cross-post, is what you're posting of interest to the people most likely to be using that particular medium?

These are all intriguing questions, and I'll be the first to admit that I have no definitive answers. Over the next couple of weeks, though, I'd love to hear what other people think has worked for them, or influenced their decision-making, just as I'll be thinking about what direction I might want to take for upcoming releases.      

The (Vanishing) Art of Conversation

Nothing profound today, just an observation.

Now, I love serendipity.  Right before I headed on my way to the Chippewa Valley Book Festival, I realized that my husband had taken my little iPod pluggie thingie . . . you know, that doohickey that allows you to plug your iPod into your radio?  Now, this had me seriously PO'ed because I was about to take a VERY long drive with a very SHORT turnaround: 5 hours each way in a 36-hour period.  When you factor in things like sleep and all the activities I had planned for the next day (three school visits) before I had to head back and then get into the car again the very next day for yet another appearance (a 3-hour drive one way) . . . that's a heck of a lot of time in the car that I was planning to put to good use listening to an audiobook that I'd downloaded especially for this trip now wasted.

So, instead, I punched in the local NPR affiliate and let public radio keep me company on that very long drive.  Now the lovely thing about Wisconsin is we've got coverage pretty much all over the state, and most of it effortlessly bleeds into the other, so you really don't miss much.  Of course, when you listen to the same news once over (because All Things Considered repeats), that's a drag.

Anyway, I'm driving along; it's a pretty day, nice autumn colors, good weather, that kind of thing.  Spotted a ginormous bald eagle on my way up, too, maybe twenty miles outside of Wausau.  As amazing as the eagle was, that wasn't the interesting part of the trip, though.  Instead, what REALLY held my interest was a fabulous Fresh Air, a program I rarely listen to not only because I'm not all that interested in most of the guests (sorry, but it's true), but it's on at the wrong time of day where I live.  This time, though, because I was trapped in the car, I heard a fabulous interview with Sherry Turkle, a clinical psychologist, who's the founder of MIT's Initiative on Technology and the Self.  Her main focus is studying the ways technology has changed the way we interact with one another.  Her newest book, Alone Together: How We Expect More from Technology and Less from Each Other, addresses something I've written about before: how ironic it is that, in this age of increased connectivity, our interpersonal connectedness--our ability to meaningfully communicate with one another--has suffered.  What I found especially intriguing were her research findings on the huge impact adults' anxieties over not in being in touch with their kids 24/7 has; how these anxieties are enormously detrimental to emotional development, particularly in the arenas of privacy, the capacity to be alone, and to disengage from one's parents (a pivotal milestone in adolescent development).  I'm not going to recapitulate the entire interview; if you're interested, take a listen. (Well worth it, I promise, and food for thought--really.)

Now, as a shrink, I didn't find any of Turkle's concerns alarmist in the slightest.  But, frankly, one thing I hadn't paid much attention to was kids' preferred modes of engagement.  That is, we kind of all expect adolescents to hesitate to be outwardly engaged, know what I'm saying?  They're the ones who'll slouch in their chairs, kind of dare you to impress or excite them, and heaven forbid, they ask the first question.  (Once a couple kids get the ball rolling, though, then it's like the group has received permission to become involved and excited.  Like Kohler High School where I spoke the week before . . . wow, those kids really got into it and we could've kept going.  But you got to hope for those two or three brave souls to start things off.)  

During the festival--but particularly after--I was reminded of Turkle's work when it came to engaging kids.  I spoke at two middle schools and one high school, and while I enjoyed each venue, the difference between the willingness of the younger kids to allow themselves to be engaged and talkative and excited versus the older kids was obvious.  The last middle school, Northstar, we talked for a good ninety minutes and were still going strong when the asst. principal had to intervene and send the kids off to resource.  This is no surprise, mind you; if you know adolescents, then you can look at the high school kids and shrug and understand this comes with the territory.  

But what did make me think about Turkle's work was when a) the high school librarian emailed to say that the kids were so excited by my presentation that they'd descended in droves to find my books and b) a couple of the high school kids got in touch to ask questions and tell me how much they liked the presentation . . . but through Facebook and Twitter

Which was kind of interesting.  

Now, I get a lot of emails, tweets, and FB messages; most authors do.  The middle grade kids from two of the Dublin schools I toured last year still stay in touch, but they were the most involved at the time, too.  Here, though, clearly those high school students were plenty interested, but expressing that, out loud and at the time, wasn't cool (for whatever reason).  Maybe this is why I always make sure to tell kids they can contact me through the usual social media or my website, and that I will always answer (so long as they're polite).

I think what I've observed is a microcosm of what Turkle's seen.  Since I am a shrink, I have noticed that so many older kids, those raised with cells, have a lot of trouble both making eye contact during and flat-out having a sustained--and uncontrolled--conversation.  Do I wonder what this means for kids' development in particular and notions of privacy more generally?  You bet.   

I waffle about whether it's better to meet with large groups or small; I've had great experiences with each.  Smaller groups imply conversation as a given while large groups foster anonymity.   But, on the other hand, the dynamics of a group are quite powerful, and once you can engage a couple kids, then it's like a row of dominoes: the questions keep coming and the conversation flows.

What I don't doubt is this: it is important for us, as authors, to actively engage kids in the ways our books invite.  That means, I think, that we have to model how to have conversations with kids who may not know how to do this very well.  To that end, the more directly we can connect--eye contact, face to face--the greater our ability to touch kids. Yes, by all means, keep in touch after the fact.  Be available.  But a text is not a person; a Skype visit is not a flesh and blood person; a blog can not engage the way you--your presence--can.  In a way, our books open the door to a conversation.  The least we can do is actually have one.

To Skype, or . . .

If you're any kind of writer these days, chances are you've been asked to Skype into a classroom or book club or festival.  Sometimes the invitation comes from teachers, organizers, or club members; other times--and, probably, more frequently--your publisher.  If you're like me, you want to a) connect with your audience, potential or otherwise and b) please people, whether that's your editor, your publicist, a friend of a friend, etc.  No one likes to say no, and the invitation to speak--the idea that people might find what you have to say interesting or want to learn more about you--is very appealing, especially when you spend SO many hours slogging over a hot keyboard with only your cat for company who, let's face it, loves you only so long as you're holding the can opener.

So, the question isn't only should you Skype, but is Skyping in your best interest?  Forget being nice or pleasing people.  Forget flattery.  Will Skyping really help you?

Because, let's be frank here: any appearance is a marketing tool, pure and simple.  That's it.  You are showing up to market your product.  In part, you're marketing yourself, so it pays to learn how to perform in front of an audience.  That's what an author appearance is: a performance.  You are attempting to persuade people to buy YOU and, only secondarily, your book.  Really, it's true.  If an author is just filthy or drunk or a complete boor or obnoxious or so introverted that watching paint peel is more interesting . . . you're not going to buy the book, or even glance through it.  An author appearance is your way of inviting people to crack the spine and take a peek.  You are marketing yourself and your work, that book you've worked so hard to produce.  So your performance may make or break a sale. It's really that simple.

Now, this isn't a tutorial on performance, although--yes--I used to do a lot of stage work; I've presented tons of academic papers at various conferences well before any book festivals.  I'm a physician, and a shrink; being with people--learning how to engage and keep them that way--was part of my training and vital to my job.  Because when you're trying to help people change things that aren't doing them a whit of good, you are also selling them a different approach.  It's all about marketing: how you present your product.  For a shrink, it's selling your patient the idea of, say, refraining from swallowing that bottle of pills and, instead, giving you a call or finding their mother or getting to an emergency room.  To do that, a patient needs to have faith.  A patient needs to buy your approach.  A patient must believe that the product you're peddling is better than that nasty cola she's been drinking for years.

If you think about Skyping in that way--as a marketing opportunity to engage with a target audience--then you need to decide if this particular gimmick (and it is a gimmick) works in your favor.  Yes, yes, I know that Skype is the new darling because people think it will save them money; they won't have to put authors on tour; etc., etc.  But I'll bet none of them have thought of Skype as COSTING them sales, which I believe it can, and perhaps more frequently than they think.

I will be frank.  For me, is Skype a great marketing tool?  Most of the time, for me . . . no.  And let me tell you why.

In some ways, it's very simple and no mystery.  It's hard to engage anyone through the filter of a medium like a teeny, tiny computer screen (or a big one, for that matter; I've had it both ways).  Not only can I NOT see everyone in the room, I can't read visual cues (other than complete boredom, but we'll get to that).  I don't know about you, but every performer--or at least, I--always try to home in on people who will make eye contact or have just the most exquisite facial expressions that let you know how you're doing.  You look for changes in expression; you may make quick jokes or smile or single someone out for prolonged attention.  It's all part of reading the audience.

Doing that is nearly impossible with Skype. It just is.  In much the same way that I would never dream of Skyping with a patient because I might miss something I would otherwise catch if I'm in the same room, you tend to miss things when you're confined to a single view through a camera.  I can't see everybody; sometimes I'm only looking at pieces of people. Frequently, we won't even be making eye contact because cameras on laptops or mounted on computers don't often catch people full-on.  People are usually looking down, up, sideways.  There's no human engagement whatsoever, and so ability to read people well.

Another huge problem with Skype or any similar tech is. . . the tech.  There are glitches; you get booted out; sometimes the picture sucks, or the sound quality, or (frequently) both.  And no one knows how to fix these things.  If you're Skyping into a school, you can be pretty certain that their tech isn't all that current.  If it's some poor hapless teacher who's really not that skilled with this stuff, then he gets  flustered or she has to find the AV person . . . blah, blah.  Like that.  The tech that is supposed to be so freeing and facilitate all this great communication ends up being a pain in the ass.

And try Skyping into a setting where people have accents with which you're not familiar.  If you think it's hard to parse the words in person, magnify that about a thousandfold over Skype through crappy mikes or around bizarre echoes.  What's worse is when you can't understand the helpful teacher with an accent that's just as thick.

An even bigger problem--and I think this is the one that most people don't think about--is this: kids don't have the same relationship with a screen that they do with a person.  Think about people in movie theaters these days.  Think about yourself during a television show.  And how often have you seen kids multitasking? (Which is really just a silly word that means doing many things not very well, and don't let anyone tell you otherwise; there are plenty of studies on diminished efficiency and attention span when a person pursues multiple activities simultaneously.)  That's right; all the time.  Those kids are, maybe, doing homework while they are also texting, tweeting, Facebooking, maybe on the phone (but, heaven forbid, they actually use the phone to make a call), with music on and a minimized computer game they hope their moms won't notice.  (And those social media themselves FOSTER limited attention span and contact, too.  Think about it.  Do you REALLY engage in long, deep, soulful and altogether life-affirmingly meaningful discussions over Twitter?  Or Facebook?  Uh . . . no.  Twitter is a cocktail party; you drop in for a quick chat; you leave.  Facebook is the same.)

My point is that kids are used to not paying attention to a screen.  A screen is practically an invitation to do something else.  In the case of a computer screen and a talking head, a gnat with ADHD still has better attention--and yet, here you are, trying to demand that a kid pay attention in a setting and with the stimuli that foster inattentiveness.  I've been in settings where dogs wander in and out of the room; kids wander in and out; adults hold private conversations; people deliver food because, all of a sudden, people have forgotten, you know, manners . . .  Really, it's a losing proposition.

If you're getting the idea that I think Skype is a terrible idea in terms of a marketing tool, you're right.  Think of it this way: are you more likely to buy something from someone with whom you have a personal connection--who, you know, actually spoke to you, or on the basis of a commercial?  Because that really is what Skyping boils down to: you are trying to overcome the limitations of a television commercial, albeit with a more flexible script and crummy graphics.  If the medium doesn't help you--if you run the risk of being boring because you can not engage a real human being--then why ever should you do it?  (And, seriously, on a more academic level, do we really want to encourage children not to be with real people in the same bloody room?  Do we really believe that a computer screen fosters better human connectedness and interaction and socialization than a person?  Get real.  If that were true, we'd have all infants cuddle inflatable dolls instead of mothers with arms and facial expressions and voices.  Remember: a child sees herself as she is reflected in her parents' eyes.  Think about it.)

You might think you're being cooperative and nice and accommodating your publisher or editor or teacher or what have you . . . but if you shoot yourself in the foot and cost yourself sales because the medium does not help you market effectively, what good did you just do for yourself or your publisher?

Can Skype be made to work for you?  Yes--but only under very tight and limited circumstances (and even then, it's Murphy's Law all the way; anything that can go wrong will)--and for me, they are:

a) A small group (no more than ten) of interested people.  Notice I said interested.  For me, that translates to kids or adults who've either read my work or been sufficiently prepped that they have questions and want to engage in a conversation.  Have I most often gone in cold, to an audience that's never heard of me?  Oh, sure.  I don't mind that either; remember, it's all about performance.  But in that situation--when I'm there--I can read the audience; I know how to engage people; I can use humor and make people laugh; and humor is often infectious.  When you're on a roll--when you've got people hooked and interested in the story of how the last third of a novel is like the time that Palomino rode away with you, bareback--it's great and it doesn't matter if they've never heard of you before.  But it is nearly impossible to do the same through the barrier of a computer screen.  At least, it is for me.

b) A visit that is very short.  Remember what I said about attention spans and screens?  Keep it brief.  A half hour is plenty of time.  Always leave an audience wanting more (and that's a good rule of thumb all the way around).

c) A small setting.  In other words, a small room or a table where everyone is gathered and you can pretty much see everybody.  Easier to play to people; easier to see how people are reacting; easier to gauge how you're doing all the way around.

d) A test run.  Insist on it.  You want to make sure your tech works.  Life is hard enough already.

e) A discussion with the teacher/book club leader/festival host, etc., about expectations.  What do they want their kids to get out of seeing you?  Have they done this before?  What works best?  Hey, how about they do a bit of work and draft some questions or what they're interested in?  Make them your partners in this process, and believe me, things will go much more smoothly.

I'm sure you can come up with other caveats, but for me, these are the basics.  As I've said, I've had some good Skype experiences, but they are the exceptions and conform to most of the above.

All things being equal, though, I prefer up close and personal.  It plays to my strengths and what I'm good at and enjoy: being with people.  If I want a meaningful interaction via a machine, I'll go hug my Siri.

ARC Giveaway! Win! Win! Win!

by Michelle Gagnon

Hi folks! I'll have a full post tomorrow (on really cool new Cover Reveals, so be sure to tune in for that!) But I wanted to hijack this space today to share a way that you can win a FREE BOOK! That's right: absolutely, 100% free with no further obligation, spam, or other strange requirements/hassles (learned this one the hard way myself- NEVER click on a link for a free iPad! I'm still digging my way out of a stack of unwanted magazine & dvd subscriptions and cosmetics).

HarperTeen is giving away TONS of copies of my upcoming release DON'T TURN AROUND, which has received starred reviews from Kirkus and Voya, and was just chosen for the Autumn 2012 Kids' Indie Next List - "Inspired Recommmendations for Kids from Indie Booksellers." 


And it's super easy to enter! Just RT this on Twitter:

@EpicReads Off the grid. On the run. DON'T TURN AROUND by @michelle_gagnon http://vsb.li/zJ3A8c RT for a chance to win!
 
And/or on Goodreads, Click here to enter.

Good luck! 

And with that, I release this post [runs away laughing evilly...]

Essential Twitter Hashtags for Authors, Readers and Publishing Industry Professionals

By Jordan Dane

Twitter can feel like screaming into the void until you get a feel for the Twitterverse. If you tweet using a link to your blog post or website to draw traffic, you can check your blog or website stats to track the traffic from that link. Using Twitter in the right way can enhance your promo, but if you aren’t maximizing your tweets with hashtags, you’re not being as effective as you can be. That’s a waste of your precious time that you can’t afford. Here’s why:

It can take time to build Twitter followers. You can have 100 followers, but if you understand the use of hashtags, you can get beyond your followers to a much larger online community. By using the Hashtag symbol #, you can connect with readers, tap into people following a particular topic, search for the latest in a book genre, look for industry advice or read about book recommendations. Even if you have many followers, by using the right hashtag, you can target your post to a specific audience that’s looking for what you have to tweet about.

Hashtags can also be used to promote a certain product brand, like #Kindle or #Nook. It can also be used to tap you into certain experts, like #AskAgent or #AskEditor. A fun way hashtags are used is punctuation to a joke or use of sarcasm, like tweeting ‘Snooki did another beach face plant #awkward.’

To keep up with the latest in hashtags or look up ones you don’t understand, go to #TagDef. Below is a really good list to start with hashtags geared for authors, readers, and industry topics.

Target Other Authors

• #AmWriting
• #AmEditing
• #BookMarket (Every Thursday, 4 PM, ET)
• #IndieAuthors
• #LitChat (Every M/W/F)
• #MemoirChat (Bi-weekly Wednesday, 8 PM, ET)
• #WordCount
• #WritersLife
• #WriteChat
• #WriteTip
• #WriterWednesday (or #WW)
• #WritingParty
• #WritingTip
• #YALitChat

Target Book Genres

• #RomanceWriter
• #SciFiChat
• #KidLitChat
• #RWA (Romance Writers of America)
• #ACFW (American Christian Fiction Writers)
• #MGLit (Middle Grade Lit)
• #SCBWI (Society of Children’s Books Writers and Illustrators)
• #MemoirChat

Identify Industry Information

• #AskAgent
• #AskAuthor
• #AskEditor
• #GetPublished
• #PromoTip
• #SelfPublishing
• #Publishing
• #EBooks
• #IndiePub (or #IndiePublishing)
• #BookMarketing

Goals Setting Specifics

• #WritingPrompt
• #StoryStarter
• #WordAThon
• #Creativity
• #WIP (work in progress)
• #1K1H (write one thousand words in one hour)

Target Readers

• #FridayReads
• #BookGiveaway
• #Giveaway
• #Kindle
• #MustRead
• #Nook
• #Ebook
• #LitChat
• #StoryFriday
• #MustRead

After this Twitter Tutorial, I thought it might be fun to launch a Twitter FollowFest on ADR3NALIN3. If you are interested in building your Twitter Followers, list your twitter link below on the Linky Tools link. Anyone wanting to do the same can auto-follow those on the list we’ll create. Get to know other authors or readers who love YA.

Support your fellow Twitter travelers.

ENTER your TWITTER account by clicking the ENTER HERE link below. Post your http code so others can follow you.

The Loneliness of the Long-Distance Writer

When my husband wants to drive me crazy, he reminds me that computers don't live in our world.  Instead, we live in theirs.  I balk at that, but then I remember the irony of that last scene in The Social Network where Zuckerberg's sitting at that computer, obsessively refreshing the screen every few seconds.  Here, the invention of this social network has both made him rich and profoundly isolated him, costing him his only friend.  The best he manage now is to hope that a girl he's never met will accept his invitation to "friend" him.




Which is pretty sad, when you stop to think about it.


I was reminded of all this when I ran across an article in the May issue of The Atlantic all about social networking and Facebook and the web of interconnectivity in which we all seem to be snared either by choice or design.  The upshot of the article, though, was intriguing: all the research would suggest that, despite our being so very electronically connected, we're actually lonelier and more self-involved than ever.  

This is fascinating--and yet makes perfect sense.  Think about the number of times you've seen people in restaurants or on the train or in an airport or a waiting room and what are they doing?  Everyone's playing on their devices: answering email, surfing the Web . . . you know the drill.  Sure, some people are reading and, yes, this is a solitary activity but one which I believe is profoundly different than clicking and surfing, bopping around, hoping to find something "interesting."  Particularly weird are the couples sitting right across the table from one another and not speaking much at all but playing with their devices.  When they do manage a conversation, it's fitful at best and broken by cell phone calls and email checks.  (Why people feel the need to answer a cell when they're at the table to begin with is lost on me.  This is why there's voice mail.  But the sense that you just MUST answer the phone call is profoundly narcissistic, if you ask me.  NO ONE is really that important; barring life or death, nothing is so earth-shattering that it can't wait for a half hour.  You just are not THAT important.)


But I don't want this post to degenerate into a diatribe against social networking or interconnectivity.  I mean, I AM blogging, for God's sake; I'm on Twitter and Facebook.  But I wasn't initially there by choice, and here's why.


I am profoundly shy.  Really.  I know.  This always surprises people who meet and/or know me in person.  But I really am.  (Hey, we shrinks don't go into shrinkdom simply to do good in the world; we frequently want to understand ourselves.)  In my mind, you guys are always much better looking, better spoken, more at ease than I can ever be.  My husband knows that when I absolutely MUST go to some social event that revolves around his work, we follow this fairly predictable pattern.  He tells me about the event; I ask if I really have to go; he says yes; I ask why; we have anything from a minor scuffle to a modest brawl; I give in and say, fine, okay, I'll do it, FINE.  Then I flounce around for awhile and, on the way into the event, I always turn to him and suggest that he do all the talking while I listen and . . . oh, by the way, when are we leaving?  Is it time to leave yet?


So, yes.  Shy.  I'm not going to go into all the gory detail or anything about adolescence or medical school or dating--(although if you recall your Joseph Conrad, it really was a bit of the horror, the horror)--but suffice to say that, as with Sherlock Holmes, if there's a wall or suitable piece of drapery, I'm likely to be wearing clothing most likely to double as suitable camouflage.  




Now, after years of practice--forcing myself into forensics and drama and all that, where I HAD to go out there and be in front of other people and say SOMETHING (even if scripted)-- I'm much better; I function fine in social situations; no one would ever know that I was the very definition of a wallflower.  The downside of being shy, of course, is that you also tend to be somewhat lonely and envious all at the same time.  You stand there and watch everyone else having a good time at the dance or party or whatever, and it's just . . . depressing.


This all ran through my mind as I read this article because I started thinking about what social networking has been like for me, both personally and as an writer.  When I started out, I didn't do any of these social media things; I didn't have a blog.  I was pretty much told by my editors that I MUST have a web presence; MUST be on Twitter; MUST be on Facebook.  For a shy person, this was a very tall order; just because I couldn't see you didn't mean that I wasn't tongue-tied.  What could I possibly have to share or say that would interest anyone if it wasn't connected to a story (or, better yet, the story itself)?


As a writer, I've been kind of surprised.  The problem for a lot of writers is that even if our minds are full, our work is very solitary. (As Annie Dillard once put it, writers don't write books so much as sit up with them, a tad like holding the hand of a dying friend and hoping that, somehow, it will all get better eventually.)  But it is a solitude I embrace; I like hanging out in my head.  Most of the time, I really don't mind being alone; it's the life I've chosen.  


Yet while maintaining a regular Web presence has taken some getting used to, there have been a lot of upsides to being connected.  I'll give you one example.  I was in the middle of touring last year and I missed a connection or something . . . I forget the exact circumstances.  But I'm stranded in the airport and stressing, so I tweeted about it.  I'm not even sure why I did that.  But within about five minutes, someone had tweeted back, expressed their sympathy, said some nice things . . . and then spent, maybe, ten minutes or so going back and forth with me on Twitter, just keeping me company, offering encouragement . . . stuff like that.  In that instance, I was grateful to have someone to talk to for a few minutes, just to get my frustrations off my chest and have someone feel a little sorry for me (because I was feeling plenty sorry for myself).  For that brief period of time, I wasn't . . . well . . . alone or lonely.


So, for me, that's an instance where social networking was a nice thing to have.  The connection wasn't DEEP or anything; it was a lovely example of another human being reaching out to assure me that I wasn't alone and everything would be okay.  I've since discovered that it's kind of nice to drop in, chat a bit, drop out again . . .


And yet, I'm also bothered by this because I can see where some people might mistake this kind of fleeting contact as a true connection, which I'm not sure that it really is.  Don't get me wrong; I'm grateful there are people out there with whom I've grown kind of chummy via email and Twitter and what-have-you.  A couple have reached out to see if we can actually meet--which would be fun--and I LOVE how social media have allowed me to connect with other writers and, most especially, my readers.  I LOVE hearing from folks who've enjoyed my work; I love chatting with kids and adults about writing; and I know of at least one kid who pursued something she normally wouldn't have if not for Facebook, which allowed us to toss around a few ideas.


Yet I've also succumbed to the Zuckerberg-refresh phenomenon, too: tweeting or Facebooking about something only to then obsessively return again and again to see if anyone--ANYONE--cares.  (It's a little bit like that tree-falling-in-the-forest kind of thing.)  


And here's what I've found: THAT'S when I feel loneliest, when I keep (re)discovering that there's no one out there.  In those instances, I let the social media dictate how I act and, subsequently, feel.  It's not the loneliness of writing that leads me to do this; it's the reinforcement of what we all dread: that we're really only important to a very few people--or, even worse--not important to anyone, at all. 


What I've also discovered about myself is that I tend to do this when I'm having a horrible time maneuvering around some annoying plot point or the story's not cooperating or I can't seem to move the chess pieces in the right way or order and the work's not going well.  THAT'S when I tend to start tossing out bon mots and obsessively checking and rechecking email and Facebook and Twitter, hoping for a response, a bit like throwing out chum to lure sharks.  Of course, everyone else is going on with their lives; it's not like I've picked up the phone and asked a friend to meet me for coffee or something; and so the non-response can make me feel even worse.  In those moments, I do feel as if I've crossed into the machine's world instead of remaining firmly fixed in mine and empowered to act rather than depend on random bits of electrons.  I've gone searching for a fleeting and ephemeral connection which is no connection at all, and nothing compared to the satisfaction of simply going out and being in the world.


I'd be interested in what other folks--readers and writers--think about this.  Have you guys noticed that your use of social media goes up when you're frustrated, feeling blue?  Do things like Facebook and Twitter help?  Hurt?  Make you feel better or worse?  Or are they ways of tricking yourself into thinking that what you're doing is REALLY important when all you're really doing is avoiding something else, like work?  And are we lonelier than before?  More narcissistic and dissatisfied?  Because, really, having thirteen trillion followers . . . that doesn't make us any less lonely or alone.


Does it?