Out of Control
If you ever saw Stephen King’s miniseries, “Rose Red” then you know what my cyber life has been like to date: a monstrous house somehow built, somehow added on to in a way that only the rich could: with rooms in random places and staircases going nowhere. It becomes possessed, as so many things in King’s work do, and it grows of its own accord.
Many years ago, when the internet was first invented, I got an email account. Then later, I was coerced, bullied and cajoled into social media. First Facebook. A million invites before I finally acquiesced. Then jango. Which turned out to be a borderline pornographic dating/booty call site posing as a music site. Then blogging and tweeting and LinkedIn and…
And now, I have hotmails, gmails, yahoos, AIMs and Skypes and goodness knows what else. I have more virtual friends than friends in person. Even my romantic life exists mostly in cyberspace, as work prevents me from living near the man I love.
Attack of the CyberSpace Aliens
I am in danger of being consumed. And it is growing. I googled my name for fun, and discovered I am a member of sites I have no memory signing up for. And it is ME, picture and all. WTF? No clue. My cyber self is taking over. (I recently wrote a short little horror piece about this. THE NOTHING. Check it out.)
My writing career has also morphed over the years. From college editor and writer, to journalist and fairly well-known Los Angeles Entertainment Writer to SEOs and PRs and articles and webcopy. I’ve written plays and scripts, and short stories and blogs. Ghostwritten books and more articles. Random, eclectic, spread out all over the web and print world.
And now, it’s time.
It’s time to get organized. To utilize the web for all its power. I can waste my life lurking on sites and clicking buttons like a trained monkey in hopes of unlocking the magic of the net, or I can get a system in place that works.
I’m a writer. A damn good one most of the time. But I am not a web-specialty-goddess-of-cyberworld-person. No. That is not me. Fact is, navigating that world makes my brain feel like its trying to escape my skull. With a chainsaw.
But…But. It’s not good enough to be damn good, or even brilliant, if only my mom and brother read my blog? If only my kickass writing partner knows how great my work is? Then what is the point of it all? No. This will not do. So…
I got help.
Cyber Goddess to the Rescue!!
Marian Schembari. She IS a bonified web-specialty-goddess-of-cyberworld-person. And she has helped direct me down the path of all that is right and good and effective in cyberworld social media management.
And now, finally, my Twitter is being revamped as I address issues and work toward goals.
(These being, get followers, get an awesome agent, sell my work, and become wildly famous and rich with nannies and assistants and the man I love close at hand…world domination may be next, I’ll keep you posted…)
Then, this blog. Yes folks, it’s going the way of dinosaurs, minus the museums. I will have a stellar new website complete with blog and work and the world will gasp in awe at the brilliance of it all. Well, at the very least, I hope some of the world visits it long enough to gasp in awe.
So I’m streamlining, focusing, branding and marketing myself. It’s painful, and time consuming and much like parenting. If I don’t create discipline now, my cyber house will grow up a criminal with evil intentions. It will take over and kill everyone. And none of us want that.