Tweeting in the Writing World

For years I had the hardest time writing. It wasn’t that I didn’t have ideas, or inspiration, or even time. As many point out, novel writing isn’t something you have to be unemployed or financed to do. A little bit, every day, adds up very quickly.

I started a blog when I finished the first draft of my novel with the assumption that if I had some method of accountability other than myself, I would produce more work. I started podcasting the drafts, asking for feedback from listeners. And it sort of helped. But not really. I was still dawdling editing my draft, still extremely undisciplined and totally erratic. I suffered from crazy bouts of I-am-never-going-to-do-this and why-do-I-even-bother and this-is-crap-so-I-should-give-up and taking-myself-too-seriously.

Enter the Twitterverse. As strange and simple as it sounds, Twitter has completely changed the world of writing for me.

Oh, I’d been “on” Twitter for a few months, just never really took the time to explore the options. But, eventually, one friend led to another, and another, and another, and before I knew it I was actually a part of a writing community. Writers, agents, publishers, magazine editors… all right there, all sharing essential information, tips, tricks, and suggestions. What’s so unprecedented in the Twitter world is that you have a wide-open window into the lives of people in your business (yes, writing is a business). Before, there was no way you’d ever know how many queries an agent is dealing with, or what publishing houses are on the lookout, or how long it takes so-and-so to edit their novel.

The result is twofold. You learn what writers do, and that you–if you are doing it right–are doing the same thing. And if you’re into a genre, like me, that isn’t well suited to local writer meetups, the feeling of knowing you’re not alone is really profound. But you also learn about what everyone else is doing, the people behind the scenes, and you can watch the progression right before your eyes.

Here’s a few tips for Tweeting in the writing world:

  • Find people you love. You’ll be surprised how many writers tweet–big names, little names, old and young. If you have favorite blogs, check those out–favorite ‘zines, too. Most Twitter writers publish their links on their blogs.
  • Make a good profile. Put the word “writer” or “editor” in there. Make sure you provide a link to your Twitter account on your website or blog, or Facebook account. (And make sure your site is professional… but you knew that already, right?)
  • Don’t expect everyone to follow you back. Some writers, agents, and editors has a metric crapload of followers–or they’re really, really selective. Don’t take it personally. Consider the worth of being able to have a window into their worlds, and @back at them now and again. But…
  • Don’t be annoying. Must stress this. Especially with established folks, the last thing they need to deal with is a Twitterer with entitlement issues. You’ll be blocked and ignored if you constantly badger people. If you want to get to know someone, get involved in their blog posts, read their short stories/novels, let them know you enjoyed them. But being a jerk never gets you anywhere.
  • Don’t take things offensively. I saw this recently with #queryfail on Twitter, where agents post the most terrible of query bits in their Tweets. A few writers were horrified by the public nature of the bad queries. But honestly, if you can’t stand the heat, get out of the kitchen. Writers aren’t discovered: they’re made. And if you’re not willing to get into the business of publishers, agents, and editors, and feel your work is too precious, you’re in for a big surprise. I personally think #queryfail and similar “how to get an agent” tips are worth their weight in gold, and certainly something that, without social networking, I may have never known.
  • Don’t be embarrassed. I am an unabashed newbie. I’ve already made mistakes, more than I can count on one hand. Putting yourself out there, and being a resource yourself, is one of the best ways to get followers. But staying in your shell, protecting all your posts, and only tweeting once in a moon is not going to do the trick (and chances are, some folks aren’t interested in using Twitter like this and that of course is fine). Be proud of what you do, and share the goings on in your writing community.
  • Know you’re one in a million. This isn’t necessarily a bad thing, but something to just keep in mind. You are part of a large community, and you’re one of millions who has written a book. It’s a double-edged sword. Get ready to give AND take–there’s plenty to do in both departments.
  • Be approachable! If you’re using Twitter in a professional capacity as a writer, don’t be a dick. Don’t be rude. Don’t be too much of a complainer. Remember, you’re here to make friends, not alienate people.
  • Don’t expect a miracle. It takes work, both from your end and elsewhere, to get a book to publication. And it doesn’t happen to everyone. But if you work at it you’ll be better for the journey.

Confessions of a newbie novelist.

I have embarked on a new adventure as of late: contemplating publication, putting together a query, trying my best to keep my head above water, and sell, sell, sell.

As I research the publishing industry, and all that goes into it, I can’t help but feel a little overwhelmed; okay, a lot overwhelmed (you get how many queries a day?!). I read an article recently by J. A. Konrath called Confident or Delusional? and it certainly made me contemplate a bit. I’ve never considered myself either confident or delusional, in all honesty. I’ve written about the confidence issue at length. Most of it stems from growing up in an environment of non-writers/non-readers. And to the point, perhaps I’m a little delusional, but not entirely.

While I agree with about 98% of the statements in Konrath’s article–and have certainly moved my way from delusional to confident on quite a few issues therein–I get itchy thinking about the whole royalty check/praise issue. Seriously, I’m not even at the point where I can contemplate royalty checks. I’m just dipping my toes in, and first and foremost I want to share my story with other people. Oh, yes, I sound like Pollyanna. But, at the heart of the matter, I’ve always been a storyteller, and I’ve always looked for an audience. I’ve been programmed that way. Yes, I’ll take tips, of course. But eh. I’m just starting out. I think it’s a little bit delusional to sit there, writing your first few works, and be constantly thinking about the bottom line.

Further, in spite of the fact that we labor alone as writers, once that paltry query finds its way into an agent’s hands, we all become just another annoying writer looking for a break. “But I swear, my vampires are different!” we cry. The truth is, we likely aren’t. When work becomes product, everything changes. And this is one of the hardest things for any writer to accept: the words “you are not that special”. And either we can break through that hurdle or not. I suspect a great many people do not.

I have been so focused on the goal of completing this edit of The Aldersgate for the last year, that when I finally finished I was a little surprised. I sort of spun my wheels for a few days, decided to start a query for a laugh, and promptly gave up. Then I tried again. And I did it. I don’t know if it was a good idea, or a bad one. I’m wondering if my decision to podcast my draft was good or bad, if my decision to write so much about it was good or bad, if the the world holds up, if I am just doing the whole thing wrong. (And if it is wrong… hey, mistakes. We learn from them. I can deal with that.)

Though, I think I’m a little less worried than I ought to be, and I owe this to two experiences: undergraduate fiction workshopping and writing business copy for two years. While these two may seem unconnected, they’re not. Workshops taught me to grow a thick skin, that you can write really well and still be lacking; I learned that writers have egos, and if you want to write well you have to tear that ego down and replace it with persistence. Writing business copy and immersing myself in the marketing world for two years taught me that writing is a commodity, and that it can always be better (i.e. use what you learned from failing miserably the first time, write it again, and make damn well sure it’s better). It’s also going to be a great deal of work to get it right–but when you do, you can change the way people see things with the right words.

I also worked at Starbucks in graduate school, and I was really good at my job. I knew the exact drinks for the right customers (venti non-fat no-foam latte, grande 2% no whip black and white mocha… I still remember some of them) and made that espresso machine my bitch. During the holidays they always pushed us to sell the big stuff: the coffee makers, espresso machines, etc. I remember selling one of our more expensive models to a woman dressed to the nines, late one evening. I love coffee. I talk about it a great deal, and so selling this lady the machine wasn’t that tough; I just gushed about how well it worked, and how joyous a fresh home-brewed cup can be.

She smiled brightly as I was ringing her up at the register, and she patted my hand as I handed her the receipt. “You can sell anything,” she said. “Whatever you do in life, you’ll succeed as long as you can do that.”

At the time, I was hoping to be a professor of Medieval Literature somewhere, still believing–deluding myself into thinking–that I couldn’t make the writing work. That it was somehow less worthy of a goal because so few in my family would get it (chalk it up to being an oldest child, I guess, and always wanting validation for what I’ve done).  The idea of selling stuff rubbed me the wrong way, I remember thinking to myself, “Great, I’ll be an awesome car salesman.” But she meant it honestly.

Now, I finally believe in myself enough to continue as a fantasy writer, and I know it’s time to put my Mad Hatter Saleswoman hat on. Hopefully the coffee machine lady was right.

But regardless of what happens, I have a great deal of peace knowing that it won’t stop my own process. In the last year alone I have learned more about myself through writing, and have challenged myself as a writer, more than during my entire time here on the planet. So, as Konrath concludes:

Confident writers know success is beyond their control. But they keep writing anyway, and will continue to even if success never happens.

It’s not about the destination. It’s about the journey.

You must believe in yourself.

But first you have to prove yourself worthy of that belief.

I’m working on it.