Category Archives: social media

People Who Rock: Brigid Ashwood

Ascension Diptych - 1 of 2. - Delivery. Image copyright Brigid Ashwood; used with permission

Ascension Diptych – 1 of 2. – Delivery. Image copyright Brigid Ashwood; used with permission. (I know, I know. Me and birds, right?)

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the people I love. The people who’ve helped me through tough times, have inspired me creatively, and become friends and cohorts and partners in crime. Most of them have been discovered through this web of wonder, and I see them rarely (if ever). So I thought it might be fun to share with you some of the people I know who rock.

I think we as writers and creatives spend so much talking about ourselves (especially on these platform-building blogs) that it’s important to take a second and recognize those around us who’ve contributed to our success.

The first that comes to mind when I think “inspiration” is a woman I met about five years ago through our mutual love of steampunk. She’d heard my podcast, I’d seen her art. I interviewed her. We clicked. We’ve been fast friends ever since, and share a certain sarcastic yet romantic personality (Severus Snape meets Elizabeth Bennett, perhaps). And we also love steampunk, yet take it all with a grain of salt. It’s important to have perspective. Not to mention, we share a mutual obsession with fonts (good and bad) and both get excited about arty words like filigree and millefiori.

When I first saw her artwork, I was bowled over. I was unlike anything I’d ever seen. Now, I’m not an artist. But I like to imagine that if I’d truly fostered my talent and given as much effort as Brigid has, that what I’d make (if I actually had the skills) would look something like what she does. It’s elegance meets artifice (in a good way–mechanical beauties, strange contraptions with doll faces) all saturated with a depth of color and texture that just make me giddy. There were quite a few pages of Pilgrim of the Sky that were inspired by Brigid’s work, and when she agreed to do the work on the cover of the book, it made my year. We’d worked together on a poetry and art piece for Weird Tales, which was a joy, so it was easy as pie.

Brigid is one of the hardest working artists I know out there who, in spite of the everyday challenges (we’ve both gone through layoffs in our family recently) manages to consistently amaze me with her output. She’s also a Renaissance woman, who has many facets–not just visually artistic (and not just painting pretty pictures: she’s done everything from Tarot decks to runes to tongue-in-cheek designs!), but literary as well. She absolutely killed NaNoWriMo last year! I’m really looking forward to what she does as an author.

Which is all to say that Brigid is one of the people who’s a pillar of my online community: A friend, a compatriot, and a fellow mischief-maker. I have yet to meet her in person, but the weird thing is… I feel like I have already. I count her among my dearest (and one of the best phone conversationalists I’ve ever met–seriously, we can talk for hours!).

So if you have a sec, please check out her work, her website, and her store. Follow her on Twitter, too! 

On Feminism and Women Who Rock

Woman With A Guitar – Maria Blanchard

The Spark

I was sitting in the bleacher seats in one of the music classrooms at UMass, and sort of staring top-down at the Music 101 professor. She walked around the podium and said, “Now, some of you have been asking why we’re not covering the sections of women composers, the ones listed in the book. Well, the truth is that they’re just not very good.” My breath caught in my throat. She continued with a smile, “And it’s just more important that we cover the influential composers.”

This was roughly twelve years ago, my freshman year. At the time, I was still hellbent on becoming a singer-songwriter. Hearing the professor–a woman!–say what she did made me feel sick to my stomach. I felt embarrassed. For her, for the class. She might as well have just said: “What women have accomplished in music isn’t worth our time. They’ve made no impact on the world, so we ignore them.” (For the record, there are over 800 listed on Wikipedia alone.) Was that going to happen to me? Was my music just… not important enough to be anything other than a footnote?

To say that women are missing from what most people know as Classical music is an understatement. While there are some standouts, including Felix Mendelssohn’s own sister Fanny, by and large Western Classical music as taught (like most of the Humanities) is dominated by men. And why are men “better”? The major contributing factor: education. Not to mention support. And the non-existence of birth control for women. And their horrifically short lifespans. But that’s sort of not the point. The point is that regardless of the calibur of their work when compared to their male counterparts, women’s accomplishments matter — in fact, they matter so much precisely because they were done against the odds.

Moving Forward

A few years later, when I was in graduate school, I had somewhat of an opposite issue. Most people assumed I was a feminist leaning literary critic because, I guess, I am a woman. Also, I talk a great deal. But I didn’t identify as a feminist critic. As a medievalist, I was fond of the school of New Historicism, which seeks to try its best and read literature in the context of its era, and includes a great deal of historical research. I always replied to the question of feminist criticism in the negative. But in spite of my initial reply, by the end of my degree I found myself writing my thesis on a very feminist subject, the role of Guinevere in William Morris’s poem “The Defence of Guenevere” as well as looking at her in Marie de France’s lai, “Lanval.” Ultimately, I was drawn to one of the most scandalous and often discussed women in English literary history, throwing around terms like “agency” and “proto-feminism” a great deal. So much for that!

Now, I’m an author. And while my first novel featured a male protagonist, nothing since then has. I write women because I am one, because I feel like our stories still need to be told. Because we need feminism now. As a recent interview with Caitlin Moran, hilarious and brilliant author of How To Be A Woman points out, women of my generation and older are often afraid of being labeled feminists. It’s a bad word. It means you’re a bitch. Or a lesbian. Or a hippy. Or you hate men. Or you aren’t feminine. Or whatever. Right?

Moran puts it succinctly:

What part of liberation for women is not for you? Is it the freedom to vote? The right not to be owned by the man that you marry? The campaign for equal pay? Vogue by Madonna? Jeans? Did all that stuff just get on your nerves?

It’s easy to forget how far we’ve come in so short a time. Marriage was never about love or about choice: It was about wealth. Dowries. Status. Political alliances. Until the early 20th century, it was practically unheard of that a woman would have a say in her own marriage, let alone have a career. Pioneers like Mary Shelley (and her mother Mary Wollstonecraft), Ada Lovelace, the Bronte sisters, and Jane Austen, had to work against incredible odds to do what they loved. That they produced anything of meaning is nothing short of astonishing.

Women Who Rock

Doing research for Rock Revival I’ve been delving into the history of rock music as best I can. Sure, there are bands with women in them. In the indie scene it’s more common these days, but mainstream popular bands tend to fall into two categories: entirely composed of women and often done so with marketing in mind (The Go-Gos, The Runaways, The Bangles, etc.); or fronted by a woman (The Pretenders, Blondie, Hole, Evanescence). The Revivals, my fictional band, are comprised of men and women (initially two women and three men, a la Fleetwood Mac, Talking Heads, or Belle & Sebastian) which is the hardest category to find. No matter how you slice it, rock music is still very much a boys’ game, and apparently boys and girls playing together isn’t a terribly marketable concept.

Quoth Moran, rather apropos to the subject of women rocking and marketing:

“In the early ’90s, it was grunge, everybody was fully clothed. Alanis Morissette was one of the biggest artists in the world, never wore make up, wearing Doc Marten boots, and then the Spice Girls turn up, and suddenly it all looks a bit burlesque, suddenly they’re the biggest band in the world. … And as you go all the way through the ’90s, the clothes just fall off the women until you get to the year 2000, and Britney Spears is just wearing a snake.”

It got me thinking about equal footing in the music industry and why there are so few visible female rock musicians. And I think it has a lot to do with lack of empowerment. Take my experience. In spite of the fact I was born 20 years after the 60s, I was something of an anomaly as a female musician. It’s not exactly the norm to hear girls chat about electric guitars or dream about Fender Princeton Chorus amps while leafing through Musician’s Friend.

I remember “talking the talk” a few times around male musicians and sound guys (particularly older ones), and they often expressed a sort of surprise and amusement. Was I posing? Was I serious? Was I any good? “Yeah, how long have you been playing?” “What kind of guitar do you play?” Just like in geek circles, when you’re a female musician you’re often held up to more scrutiny, as if you’re some sort of impostor. And in many cases I think that scrutiny leads to self-consciousness and safe decisions, like starting your own band rather than joining one, or selecting to work with other women. Or becoming a folk singer instead of a rock star. (There are, thankfully, exceptions.)

And how about instrumental choice? I wonder, why did I never branch out from rhythm guitar to something else? Why didn’t I try lead? I think the sad answer to that is I didn’t think I had it in me, as a woman, as a musician. Because, by and large, girls don’t play lead guitar. I’m not flashy, I’m not a “performer” in that sense. Who was I to get up there and shred? (And it hasn’t gone away! My fictional band is real to my experience. Kate and Sara, like me, were encouraged with music but never pushed to be lead guitarists, or gutsy lead singers. Why don’t either of them play lead? I guess I feel like the odds of that happening, even now, are slim to none, in a band that finds a big audience.)

Carry On

I have a daughter. She’s barely three months old — but even before she was born I was worrying about what challenges she’s going to face. Now I find myself thinking about this stuff a whole lot more than I did when my son was born. Because no matter how hard I try, she’ll have a different experience than he will. Pieces like Mur Lafferty’s “Dear Daughter” really get to the heart of what I’ve been contemplating. If women today are so afraid to use the F-word, so worried about what other people might think when it comes to their own empowerment and pride, what does that mean for my daughter’s generation? If we, as mothers and fathers and friends can’t give them the courage to get out there and shred, if our communities can’t get behind them, then all the work that women like my grandmother (who was a first-wave feminist) — and other women in rock, and those who rock — have done won’t mean a thing. It’s a scary prospect.

I don’t want to make this terribly political, but I can’t go without saying that there are people here, in my country and around the world, who don’t believe women really can do these things. That it’s just not in us. Some of their motivations are religious, others experiential, some plain misogynistic. But these are big decision-makers and policy-pushers, CEOs and ad executives, people controlling the stream of what we hear and see. There are people who still see women as baby-makers and child-rearers, and creatures who really should just stay home (because that’s the best for everyone) and surely aren’t capable of raising children by themselves, let alone doing face-melting solos in front of thousands of people.

You know what? We are bigger than they are. If we decide to work at home to be with our kids, that’s our choice. If we decide to put our kids in daycare and go to work and kick ass and take names that way, that’s also our choice. That is what feminism is about. Not about being a bitch, or a liberal, or a “femi-Nazi”. It’s breaking free from the outdated societal constraints we’ve struggled under for so long. It’s about having a choice.

I want my daughter to feel the power of music. If she decides to, I want her to plug in her Les Paul, hear the sizzle of the cord coming to life, and feel every note course through her. I want her to feel the hot lights on her face, to smell the funk of backstage, to see the faces of a crowd when they make that connection. If she wants to strut, I want her to strut. If she wants to scream a primal scream and dazzle the audience with her talent, I want her to revel in every moment. I want her to be a proud, to do what I never did. And I want the world to rise up and celebrate every moment with her. Maybe that’s a lot to ask. But I think it can happen.

The pulse of rock ‘n’ roll beats in all of us, and it’s about power and strength and love and heartbreak and sex and experiences and empowerment. It’s not just a boys’ game. If anything we should be giving girls Telecasters when they’re ten and encouraging them to rock, to tell their stories, and to change the world.

We are not the labels we’ve been given. We are not wallflowers. We deserve to be heard. We are women who rock.

The Middle Eight Manifesto or; Behold! The Secret to Writing!

Photo: Natania Barron, NC Botanical Gardens

Well, I’ve reached the middle eight. Almost. At least, I’m cruising just about to the 30K mark, a little more than a third of the way through Rock Revival. Musically speaking that might be where I put a bridge. Or a pre-chorus. Or something interesting. Certainly we’ve established the verse and chorus, and now we’re shaking things up.

And hoo-boy are we. It’s been so long since I’ve been this deep in a novel (I did the math; it’s been over two years, between day jobbery, health issues, and pregnancy…) that I’ve absolutely forgotten how characters can throw you for a loop. I had this planned, damnit. WTF?!

Maybe part of me really thought the magic was only apparent in speculative-flavored books, because this last scene (written about 12 hours ago, during the wee hours of the morning) really threw me a punch in the gut. You’d think a first-person narrative wouldn’t be so unpredictable, but you’d be wrong. Kate just took me down an alley I didn’t anticipate going down, and it’s horrible and wonderful and perfect for where the book is going.

So as far as fiction writing is going for me? Happy days are here again. Glad to report, this lady’s got her groove back. Quite literally. I even started putting those lyrics from yesterday to music! I’m basically squeezing every moment of time possible for myself between diaper changes, errands, cooking dinner, and loads and loads of laundry. Yes, that’s me. Covered in spit up and wearing pajamas for most of the day. Glamour!

Anyway, after talking a bit last night with Paul Jessup, a writer who’s been a friend since I started going on the Internet and referring to myself as an author, I decided I wanted to offer a few words of wisdom about becoming a successful writer.

So I wrote a little manifesto. I’m indebted to a few for this, because not all this is new (in particular Jeff VanderMeer’s Booklife and Stephen King’s On Writing). These are just the things that I’ve learned that are helpful especially for newer writers.

1.) There is only one secret to writing. And that is writing the best book you can possibly write.

2.) Writing well for you is not the same as writing well for others. Learn to figure out what it is that you write, and why it’s important to write it. Know your strengths and weaknesses. You’ll never be perfect, but awareness is the key to growth.

3.) No how-to book can teach you how to write. The only way to write is to read. And then write. Then read more. And more. And write more. Ad nauseum. You have to be in love with words and stories and characters and process. You have to be prepared to be alone, to sit up late at night and stay in love.

4.) Don’t follow agents and publishers on Twitter/Facebook/whatever until you’re ready AND until your book is ready. In some cases, I’d say to steer clear in general unless you know them personally. While their insight is helpful, I’ve seen it be more of a hindrance than a help for most writers who are too tempted to submit (unprepared) manuscripts in the face of all that social media influence. Not to mention, it’s a distraction you don’t need when writing. (After spending the better part of the last two years unconnected to the writing Twitter feeds, I’ve got to say there’s a lot less noise in my head; I keep it limited to my friends now, and very few industry folk. You can’t let the floodgates in, you’ll drown.)

5.) If you think you’re book is ready, it’s probably not. Edit it again. Share it with more friends. Leave it in a desk for a year. Let it cure. Like good bacon.

6.) Don’t even think about writing a query if your book isn’t ready. (Also, don’t even think about pitching/pestering/following/paying attention to agents/authors/publishers, either.)

7.) Make friends who are writers. Make them diverse, across genres, backgrounds, experiences, genders. Learn from them. Be kind to them. They will lift you up, connect you, support you when you need them most. Those relationships will help build your (and their) career.

8.) Don’t measure your success by your friends’ successes. Your career isn’t theirs. Keep going. While you’re at it: Focus on your own goals, and makes sure they’re realistic.

9.) Throw out your definition of success and think of a better one. It’s never what you think it is.

10.) Grow a thick skin.

11.) Grow a thicker skin. Everyone gets bad reviews. People will inevitably, somewhere along the way, hate your book. They might even hate you. If you’re not ready to face that, you’ll crumble. You’re allowed a meltdown now and again (I can speak to experience on this one) but you need to learn to bounce back, and remember that you’re a writer and you are putting yourself and your work out there because it needs to be shared.

12.) Be kind. Many writers don’t have 10 & 11, and never do. Also many writers are not kind or nice in any way. And they might be successful. Still, don’t burn bridges with reviews/commentary/criticism unless you’re prepared.

13.) Go to conventions as an attendee, then as a guest. Repeat.

14.) Enthusiasm is required. However, understand that there is such a thing as too much PR/self-promotion/spam. People will stop listening if you flood the channels.

15.) There is no easy way out. There is only one secret to writing. And that is writing the best book you can possibly write. 

A few notes. Personally, I’ve struggled with 10 & 11. I’m really bad at getting back up on the horse following rejections. Even nicer ones. Part of my problem is that I’m a very non-competitive person, and it’s honestly easier to be inactive than to get rejections. Once this current book is at Draft Zero, I’m going to be evaluating the current trunk full of novels I’ve given up on.

And listen, social media is great. I’ve made some of the best connections through it. But it’s become a mire. Half the people who follow me are self-publishing zealots spamming their feeds with their books (on sale for .99!). I mean, props to them. They’re making this a business. But their approach is not my approach. Yes, miracles do happen. Unexpected books break free and find huge popularity. But popularity isn’t success. Not for me. My biggest moment of success? Getting an awesome Library Journal review for Pilgrim of the Sky. Quite literally, I’ve never felt so downright euphoric in my writing career, ever. I was sitting in the car at a supermarket in Boone, NC, about to leave cell service territory, when I got the email from Kate at Candlemark, and I had to read it over twenty times and I couldn’t stop giggling. That made all the work feel so worthwhile.

And sure, most agents and publishers are well meaning. I don’t know. I don’t know their motives personally. But a lot of them come across as if they’re on power trips or use social media as their personal griping boards. Sure, it’s nice to know what agents are looking for. But you shouldn’t write for them. They are not your audience. They’re the gatekeepers, in some instances (though less and less so as the face of publishing is changing so quickly). And just because you get an agent doesn’t mean you’re happier. Some of the saddest people I know are authors with representation who are still going nowhere.

The thing is, the industry can and will change at the drop of a hat. The only constant is you, the writer, the content creator. Which is why the secret/no-secret is in your hands.

So go write, already! The world’s waiting for your best.

I can’t stay here to hold your hand, I’ve been away for so long

By Kaldari (Own work) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

That’s a Neko Case lyric, from “The Next Time You Say Forever” from Middle Cyclone. It sums up things nicely for where the book is going right now.

But first things first. I had a great time at ConTemporal, the convention in my back yard. It was splendid to see so many friendly faces and see folks I hadn’t seen in a long time. I really enjoyed the panels I was on, particularly the one on Neo-Victoriana and the one on Weird Westerns. I’m always happy as a clam to talk about these sorts of things, even if I did compare my writing process to Pooh Bear’s “Think, think, think” and talk probably too much about shiny things and Young Guns. (Note to Karen: I seem to always bring you up as the Aldersgate inspiration… which really was the springboard for all of this. <3)

Unfortunately, the baby girl* didn’t cooperate too well at night, so I was a bit of a zombie by the time Sunday rolled around. But it’s getting better. Four of the last seven nights she’s slept six hours or thereabouts. It was just convention timing that was bad.

Anyway, because I’ve regained my zeal in the last four weeks, I still had to do some writing last night. Some wine helped (though neither was remarkable enough to write home about) and I sat down to clock in just under 2K for the night. Sincerely happy with that.

In other news, I’m about to finally get that digital piano I talked about before, because heaven help me I’m going to explode if I can’t get some music playing in. I try not to cry thinking about not being able to play guitar (wandering into Guitar Center and having to walk away from the guitars was really, really hard) but it’s life. I can still write. I can still play piano. (Our bodies are fragile. People, take care of them.) I’m playing around with the idea of actually writing and recording some of the songs from the book, because that’s how I work. I feel like I can’t get it right if I can’t sing it/play it, in this aspect. (And cool thing about the keyboards these days, you can pretty much be a one person band if you need to be. We’ll see if I can convince the husband to lay down some guitar tracks…)

The book is turning into a bit of a multimedia project, and I’ve set up a Pinterest board for visual inspiration as well as a Spotify playlist (though what’s frustrating is that lots of things, like Zeppelin and the Beatles and whatnot, aren’t available). It’s not just songs I like to listen to, or musicians that I dig, but also folks who would have influenced the band members. Okay, so we basically share the same musical tastes but… I swear, I’ll put Kurt’s playlist together (yes, I’m thinking of creating playlists for individual characters) and that’ll be totally weird and wonky. Exciting discoveries (since I’ve been primarily listening to Classical music for the last half decade) include Fran Healy of Travis’s solo album (which features Neko Case and Paul McCartney). I listened to Travis pretty much on repeat through college, and the fact that Fran’s worked with some of my other favorites of all time (including an upcoming project with Keane) I’m borderline giddy. :)

More very rough first drafty goodness. Backstory bleeding into present story, and stuff about love and liquor.

Nashville was our attempt at saving ourselves. At saving the band. At saving the music. With Sara out of the picture (but not out of mind for neither James nor I) James and I had a lot more time to really figure out what kind of sound we wanted, and what we wanted to say. Both of us were single, and neither of us were over that last hearbreak. So Lester Hotel was, no surprise, a total catharsis.

And really, when we stepped away from the whole thing we realized that it was far less of a band album and more of an album where our band happened to play the songs we wrote. Dusty and James insisted that Kurt stay out of the process, aside from just playing what we told him, and Tom and Paul sort of danced around the periphery.

And yeah, there’s another story there, too. Because halfway through Lester Hotel, a few weeks after we were mixing down the first demo of “16th Street Lights”, I realized something really strange. That I had feelings for James.

We’d worked together so long, and he’d always been Sara’s. And honestly, I thought they were going to get married (though God knows Sara’s parents didn’t take well to James to begin with; part of me would have loved seeing what they’d do with a half-Indian grandchild). I’d constructed a pretty impressive wall around my perception of James, and it’d been up so long—and, I should mention, expertly fortified with liquor and delusions—that when it came down, I almost crumbled, too.


*this post took approximately 5 hours to write. On and off… yeah. All hands on deck!

More Pilgrim of the Sky Reviews!

I’ve been very behind in providing reviews for Pilgrim of the Sky — mostly due to being insanely busy and preparing to bring the new little creature into the world (9 weeks to go, for those who are counting). However, I am grateful and thrilled that so many people have connected with the book, and offer here a few choice bits for you to read:

From Chuck Lawton at GeekDad (whose band The Vitrolum Republic you should check out, not to mention the project of his wife, Sue, The Circus and the Cyclone):

The novel is grand in scope, rich in description and full of wonderful discovery. It will take you from the present modern world to a world born of an alternate history which parallels our own to a wholly ancient and powerful realm. It has plenty of originality while echoing the elements of other authors such as Neil Gaiman and Phillip Pullman — comparisons I make with great compliment. It’s a fun adventure and one I hope you embark on yourself.

From Steampunk Canada:

All of the main characters in Natania Barron’s story have substance and their interactions are well crafted and complex. The mysteries and mythology in her tale are nicely designed and she reveals them a little at a time, always leaving a little unsaid. It made me want to sit far longer than I intended to read on and find out more.

By the story’s climax  I was, I fully admit it, bawling my eyes out. I won’t say whether through sorrow or mirth, but it was, to state it simply, amazing.

From Litstack:

All in all, it was an enjoyable read, and would be a good introduction to steampunk for someone who wants to ease in (only one of the eight worlds is steampunk, after all, even if it is the one where the most time is spent). If you enjoyed Mur Lafferty’s Heaven and Hell, wanted to follow Alice Through the Looking Glass, or thought Gaiman’s Anansi Boys could do with a few more corsets and a touch of lace, do yourself a favor and read Pilgrim of the Sky.

From Game Vortex:

Pilgrim of the Sky is a peculiar book, but an interesting one. There’s a lot of story to absorb and the characters skip about through different worlds, so it can be difficult to keep it all straight in your head. While the story did have a definite end, only Worlds One, Two, Six and Eight were truly explored and I have a feeling there may be a sequel in the works in the mind of the author to explore the other worlds.

Additionally you can hear me and my silliness on a variety of podcasts including:

Five Ways Social Media Can Destroy Your Writing (and, Potentially, Your Career)

Ah, social media. You can’t cross the street any more without having it cross your consciousness (I wonder if there’s a check-in here!). And as useful as social media can be for us writerly types, I guarantee you for every pro there is a serious and potentially hazardous con. Having written before on some of the reasons I love Twitter for writing, I thought I’d share five ways that social media can, you know, go all Cthulhu on your writing rather than foster it.

1) You drive yourself to distraction. This is perhaps the most obvious pitfall of social media. It’s damn distracting. There’s plenty of time to talk about writing, to meet new writers, to see and read and absorb everyone else’s processes and approaches and learn about the business and agents and publishing and… and… Wait, when was the last time you actually sat down and wrote something? And finished it? And submitted it? Yeah, I thought so. Spend too much time writing and thinking about social media, and before you know it that hard-earned writing time evaporates like wine on a hot skillet. There’s lots of time for learning the craft, and building a network is important. But the second you start spending more time broadcasting than actually creating you’ve got your priorities mixed up. (Don’t think you’re addicted: Check out the Oatmeal’s “How Addicted to Facebook Are You Quiz” for some laughs.)

Solution: Some writers use various types of software to turn off Twitter, Facebook, etc., during writing times. Others are just self-disciplined. Me? I block out hour time periods. For that hour, I’m allowed only to write. Then, I get five or ten minutes to check the wide world. Honestly, sometimes I just keep on writing because, well, there’s a lot less noise out there.

2) You broadcast too much. This is something I’ve seen from very young, fledgeling writers, to established and critically acclaimed writers. Yes, there is too much of a good thing. Over sharing. Over gloating. TMI. You know what I mean. Sure, it’s up to you to do as you will with your social media accounts. I’m not the police. I’m just saying, as a book fan and a writer myself, there’ve been many people that I’ve stopped following simply because their feeds got too, well, uncomfortable or, to turn a phrase, commercial. As much as I don’t want to hear about every single meal and migraine, I don’t want to have to endure a feed that’s nothing but self-promotion. Balance, friends.

Solution: Ask some good friends for critiques of your social media feeds if you’re worried. Write a manifesto about what you do and don’t share. If you care about that sort of thing. If you don’t, well, more power to you. Just know that your social media persona is as close as some of your fans, potential colleagues, and publishers are ever going to get to you. And if you want to make money off this writing thing, it’s probably a good idea to present yourself well. Okay, so maybe you have a huge, established audience and you couldn’t care less about what people think of you because you bathe in dollar bills. I still hold that one bad turn could ruin your career, especially if it reeks of scandal.

3) You get into arguments with other people. You know. Like, every other day. Yes, I believe that discourse is important. The only way that we progress is through understanding, which can sometimes take the form of heated discussions. But is social media the place for this? Likely not. And for a few reasons. a) it’s painfully public so everyone gets to listen to your late-night, Pabst-fueled rantings uncensored and before you have the chance to delete them b) the internet is FOREVER, man. Be a dick once, and it will haunt you for a lifetime, and c) it’s not a good place to be when you’re heated and angry and out for blood. (Penny Arcade even posits that even some folks probably aren’t in that good of a place when they sign up…)

Solution: You’re really pissed off? Good. Maybe you can do something to change the injustice. But take some time to cool off before you oust Major Jerkward Editor to the world. Be tactful. Try blog posts, mobilize your friends, prepare a response. Then you’re not a hot-head drunkard writer who comes off looking petty and jealous, you’re a well-spoken expert on the situation who added something really cool to the discussion and changed a few minds. (Also: try not to take yourself so seriously. I swear, in four years, you’ll look back at this and have a good laugh. Or a cry. Hopefully the former and not the latter.)

4) You’re very vocal about whose writing you do and don’t like. This is beyond issues of content. If you really hate a particular writer simply for the way they write or a particular choice they made in their story, trumpeting it to the social network isn’t the best idea. Why? Well, take a quick look at how many people you’re connected on, say, Facebook. You know, the other day, Facebook recommended that I friend Peter Straub, because apparently we have a whole lot of friends in common. Yeah, that whole six-degrees thing just got a whole lost closer with social media. Thankfully, I like Peter Straub. But if I ranted and raved about how much I detested him, then ran into him virtually or IRL, you know… that might be a bit awkward. And potentially damaging.

Solution: Critique, don’t simply dislike. Don’t let emotion get in the way of reading/projecting about what you’ve read. That goes beyond being a bad social media person — that’s just being a bad reader. If you’re reviewing something, you owe it to yourself and to the writing community to explain why you didn’t like it. You also owe it to everyone to actually read the book. Done well, you come across as someone who knows their stuff and you might even give insight into the writer’s own work. Remember, all writers are still in progress! (Note: some writers do believe they aren’t progressing, and others still can’t take any criticism at all. But at least if you respond intelligently, you cover yourself in the future! While not cool, IMO, I’ve still seen plenty of writers go after other writers and readers either on Twitter, Facebook, or blogs, for bad reviews… Remember that whole thing about the internet being forever? Yeah… totally goes both ways.)

5) You think you’re ready when you’re not. It’s so exciting to see other authors selling stories and doing book tours and signing book deals. But if you start comparing yourself and your career to theirs, you’re in for trouble. The truth is that there’s no magic formula. And submitting a bunch of half-thought stories and novels to publishers before they’re ready, just because you dream of the day you can Tweet: “I sold my book!” is not a good idea. I’ve been guilty myself of this, I will freely admit (while social media wasn’t the only culprit in my progress paralysis, it certainly didn’t help!). A false-sense of your own skill leads to nothing but heartbreak. Unfortunately, for the majority of writers out there, hope does nothing for actually selling a book. Also, beware promises that sound too good: vanity presses, people who want your money to publish your book. It’s hard to separate the wheat from the chaff online sometimes, but generally speaking, there is no pot of gold at the end of most promised rainbows.

Solution: Measure success with your own yardstick. Make goals that make sense for you and your experience. Maybe it’s just finishing a short story this year. Maybe it’s scoring an agent. But  framing your success in terms of other peoples’ is a recipe for disaster and, ultimately, massive disappointment. The only thing that writers have in common when it comes to success: damned hard work. To quote Jeff VanderMeer from Facebook earlier today (and to give a nod in general to Booklife, which goes into this better than I do): “If you’re not willing to put in the time and effort, if you don’t like hard work, don’t be a writer. Don’t be a writer if you don’t like to read. The world doesn’t need another punk-ass pretender.”

I’m sure there are lot of other pitfalls of social media, but these are the ones I’ve become most familiar with. Above all, practice moderation, folks. Any tool can become a distraction. Anything you say can be found again. And the only person who can truly control how you’re perceived is you. You want to be an irreverent, irate creative? Go right ahead. Just know that there are possible ramifications. You want to avoid social media altogether and go the Luddite route? Rock on. Just know that you’re also missing out on some pretty huge opportunities. (Or… maybe… in some cases, you’re not!)

How about you? Anyone fallen into any of these traps or discovered others? How do you balance social media and your writing life?

Further Reading: