Well, I did it. I boldly stepped in to the scariest part of the 21st century thus far. I tweeted. I’m following, I’m being followed (well, by a few people) and I’m working on #whatsupwithhashtags. It’s been an eventful afternoon.
I’m not big on most social media. Yes, I have a Facebook account, but I ignore it as much as possible. I like LinkedIn for professional connections and I actually know how to use it. And now here I am doing what I said I’d never do, tweeting. Newsflash, I love it. Mere hours ago I was making fun of Twitter and Tweets and dismissing its usefulness and now, well, I’ve gone to the dark side.
I fell in love with Twitter because one of the first tweets I received was “Welcome fellow author!” OMG I’m a fellow author. Yep, a real deal author, and a fellow of the secret society to which I feel certain I will soon be welcomed. Sadly, I won’t be able to tell you anything about it. It’s kind of an author thing.
I am fortunate to have some very talented friends, including one who is a social media guru, @ksboll, and another who is a PR consultant and communications pro extraordinaire, @JillBernsteinPR. Each of these two very intelligent people have generously given me Twitter guidance, speaking slowly and dumbing it down for me like nobody’s business. I felt prepared to finally take the plunge.
I’ve been burned before you know. My sister-in-law Lisa “suggested” (via coercion) that I jump into Facebook a few years ago. She reeled me in with very tempting bait, my 20 something niece and nephews. She offered me access to their every thought, every activity, and every drunken college experience, complete with photographic evidence. Pandora’s box.
Then came Twitter and more recently a dozen other sites in rapid succession. My eyes blur when I see rows of icons for social media sites. I start feeling overwhelmed. I start feeling old. This makes about as much sense to me as the periodic table that I never learned.
When I was in high school I tried to show my parents how to use the latest, greatest invention ever, the VCR. It was a newfangled contraption that allowed you to tape shows and watch them later!
It was just a question of manually setting the timers and remembering to leave the TV on the right station. A couple of other buttons, a wing and a prayer. Simple, right? But since my parents were perpetually confused, I ended up being the Designated Family VCR Timer Setter. I safeguarded my entire family and singlehandedly ensured that we never carelessly missed an episode of Dallas.
So now here I am, almost as lame as my parents. It’s a nightmare, and hopefully Twitter will offer me some salvation. I’ll be tweeting about it; follow me @jillfoerhirsch. I’ll fill you in on #WTF as soon as I figure it out.