When I first started writing fiction, I sat down at my computer and banged the keys for a few hours every day. It was all about the words and the story and reaching my daily quota.
There was no Facebook.
There was no Twitter.
There was no blogging.
I didn’t belong to any listservs. Or Yahoo groups. Or on-line forums.
There was no Google+. Or Tumblr. Or Foursquare. Or a bunch of other things I don’t know anything about, but fear I’m getting left behind on.
There was email, but I wasn’t getting a whole lot of it (a benefit of not having many friends).
Now, it’s a wonder I can concentrate on one thing long enough to finish a…hey, look, Ashton Kutcher just Tweeted something clever! LOL!
Of course, there’s a lot more on plate today. I’m writing one project, while promoting another, while assisting with production on a third. Before I had a book published, I wasn’t worried about designing my website or producing bookmarks or developing stand-up routines. I didn’t have to “book” appearances or proof galleys or write pithy bios that make me sound a lot more accomplished than I am.
If it sounds like I’m complaining, I’m really not. I know I’m very fortunate to be where I am. I’m just a bit peeved with myself for letting my priorities get skewed at times (yes, it’s my own gosh durned fault). While I realize that promoting and all the other ancillary book production activities are vital, it sucks time away from the good part.
The writing.
Alan
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