I've been holding out on you. I've been holding out on me, too, but more on that later.
First, the stuff you may have actually noticed if you follow me on twitter, stalk me on Facebook, have circled me on G+, or you've stopped by here at least twice while sober: I've been doing a lot less talking and a lot more doing lately. Sure, I still tweet more than
most some, but I'm pretty sure that if I could do math, my current percentage of time wasted sending out tweets and status updates into the universe with the hopes of The Agent of My Dreams stumbling across some of it, being blinded by my wit, and throwing a contract in my face JUST BECAUSE versus where it was when I started this whole crazy ride about two years ago? Probably down by at least 942.5%, or thereabouts.
Instead, I'm doing what the real writers do...which is, get this...write! Right?
I stopped tweeting every time Buttercup did something fabulous and got a regular gig with Owning Pink. I chose to focus on my platform instead of planting a Facebook garden and kept the ball rolling at Bookieboo. I reminded myself of my desperate need for a finger monkey instead of getting back on twitter to tell you how I did the first two things and got an official spot on the An Army of Ermas team and then wrote an essay that was accepted for publication in next month's edition of Hippocampus Magazine...
I got word of another acceptance, wrote another essay that I'm planning on sending out into the world, applied for a book reviewer position with Hippocampus, GOT THE POSITION, and wrote back with an OF COURSE I ACCEPT before I realized what had actually happened. I'll be reviewing non-fiction: memoir and craft books. So if you want to contact me about a potential review, I left plenty of clues in this post for potential stalkers to get in touch with me.
There's dreaming and then there's doing, people. I'm no social media writing expert and I don't play one in my Twitter profile, either, but I will say this...
Doing seems to be a hell of a lot more productive.