Just read an article in the New York Times about why authors Twitter. Some use it strictly as a means of promotion: announcements of new books, signings, tours. Some use Twitters to be in touch with readers in a more familiar way, to make readers feel they are all friends. Not that those authors aren’t sincerely interested in their readers and in knowing each other. And some Twitters are gregarious and like the back and forth of the process and actually have interesting bits to share. Like the Twitter I just reposted from @Darin Strauss about God and black holes and Tim Tebow. Now if I thought of interesting little 140 character nuggets like that one, I’d be twittering all the time, too.
Sadly, lots of us authors are, however talented in some ways, not good at the Darin Strauss constructions. Some of us are introverted or shy enough that even interaction through electronic media is a little iffy. Don’t wish to evoke the author as recluse in the attic image, but there is a smidge of truth to it. Maybe it’s also partly a generational thing. I’m old enough that all this electronic media makes me feel like there is a swarm of bees buzzing my head. My phone will take pictures, which is miraculous, but I don’t need my phone to take pictures. I never remember it will do it if an occasion for pictures arises. And the main factor for me is that I imagine the millions of people out there engaging in electronic media and feel overwhelmed and inadequate. So I guess this is a post about why I don’t post more. It’s because I’m introverted, old enough to remember Ma Bell and party lines with nostalgia, and also because I’m so very humble, and of course proud of that.