Got my panties in a twist this morning but spent a good part of half of my mind thinking about the implications of social networking and the creative writer. It started when I posted on twitter and Facebook that I had a story published and just out with an e-zine, and provided the link to the piece. I received one comment and one “Like” on FB. Now more than half of my “Friends” on FB are writers, many of them more local and in-person friends as well as FB friends. It made me feel bad.
I know, I know: not everyone has the time to read never mind comment on all that’s posted daily on these social networking sites, and no one has the same habits or routines. I tend to read at Fictionaut and comment there, especially to new writers who are talented and may need the kind words. And it’s not set in stone, but in my experience it seems that the writers who excel at their craft, who put their heart into the words whether poem or story, are the ones who most likely need the reassurance that they are indeed writing something that others enjoy reading. There are those who don’t, who have the self-confidence or don’t require any validation but that’s often because they’ve already been convinced by others and have come to accept their work as good or they aren’t really that good but merely believe themselves to be and don’t care what others think. But in the deep dark place where our heart and soul and mind have meetings, we usually still find the input of others to be essential to our belief in ourselves.
Then we get into social networking. And, reciprocity. And, not hurting somebody’s feelings for overlooking them.
Once the network spreads too wide, this is bound to happen. We all make up our own rules I suppose, just to keep sane. I personally try to make sure that I post a comment on the artist/writer’s initial posting, or at the very least, the first notice I get of a showing, a publishing, or whatever. A simple “Like” will do, though a “Congrats!” takes only a second longer. I always go and read the story and uh-oh, there’s a place to leave a comment there too sometimes. I try to do so. Then you might get a half-dozen more FB notices from friends on this same item. Are you supposed to comment on all of them? I don’t. As long as the writer/artist knows that I’ve viewed his work, I think that’s sufficient.
Now there’s a lot of benefit to social networking besides the pat on the head; there’s the hitching of one’s wagon to a star, and that’s what I avoid doing. There’s a lot of folks wanting to be noticed–I’m one of ’em–but I just can’t find it in myself to schmooze in hopes of catching the eye of an editor or publisher, or work the web just to benefit my own status. There are folks out there that need and there are folks who are just plain needy. It’s hard, but it’s best for me to learn about people and see what they’re asking for before I give what I can.
Facebook, MySpace, et al, have created some monsters and have resulted in some terribly unfortunate suicides because of fragile egos. Why do we let folks we really don’t know very well get to us so deeply? Because, we’re human. Because we leave ourselves wide open to a select group. The internet expands that select group to hundreds of people if we choose. That’s a helluvalotta people to allow to influence us.
It’s hard to sell yourself; the soul of a poet is often at odds with that of a marketing expert, though the two combined make the best whole. After I whined, friends came to the rescue through the medium and emails and it made me feel rather foolish and yet, in the back of my head there’s still that feeling that I shouldn’t have needed a double-call to acknowledge. Or develop a thicker skin but then, thick skin would prevent one from feeling what we want to put into words that will move others as well.
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology