How a New Writer Can Rock Twitter (Without Seeming Like a Creeper)

Thanks to @MJKellySmith, I was dragged to Twitter kicking & screaming in 2010. Within a few weeks, I went from skeptic to fan. Instead of the timewaster I had envisioned, I discovered that Twitter provided me with direct access to publishing industry pros all over the world.

Here are eight practically painless, creeper-free suggestions for those new to the wonderful world of writing who want to connect with Tweeple who have already colonized that planet.

1. Crash the #amwriting party.

[Here's a primer and suggestions for how to make the most of the #amwriting hashtag without being the SM equivalent of a Summer's Eve product.]

Type "#amwriting" in the search box at the top of your Twitter toolbar. That will take you to the hashtag (the brainchild of the wonderfully altruistic @JohannaHarness). Click on "LIVE" to see the most current writing-related tweets as they happen. Scroll through -- ignoring the Promoted tweets, and the tweets of shameless self-promotion -- and see what others who are currently writing have to say.

Other writing-related hashtags include #amediting, #querytip, #writingtips, and #writingprompts.

Oh -- and if you want to tap into one of the most supportive groups of writers in the known multiverse, ya gotta check out #NaNoWriMo.

Regardless of what writerly hashtag you choose, go there and lurk at first. Don't be in a hurry to talk. Just listen. Then...

2. Follow those who say things you find interesting.

(ProTip: Immediately unfollow those bags containing Summer's Eve products who send you auto-DMs. Following someone does not mean you want to friend them on Facebook or buy their book or subscribe to their blog. Sheesh.)

3. Favorites are your friend.

Recent favorites: query fails, coffee, & Corgis!

When someone tweets something you find interesting / funny / useful / pithy / relevant, give him or her a gold star. Favorites in Twitter are the equivalent to Likes on FB. They let people know that their voices have been heard.

A few non-creeper caveats on Favoriting:

Caveat I: Unless you know someone and have formed an online relationship, don't favorite more than one or two of their tweets a day. Favoriting everything a person posts is the hallmark of a sycophant. Don't be that person.

Caveat II: The rules are different for Twitter pitch parties, such as #PitMad or #AdPit: Favoriting is only for agents and editors who are interested in the project. (For pitch party etiquette - which is constantly evolving - see @BrendaDrake's #PitMad article.)

4. Retweet to repeat.

If someone says something you wish you had said, or if you read something you think your followers will find interesting, retweet it by clicking the box made of two arrows. Include a comment if you wish to add your two cents' worth to the original.

Though things you favorite won't show up in your followers' timelines, your retweets will. Be selective.

5. Be willing to help.

One of the best ways to strike up a conversation is to make yourself useful. If someone asks a question that you know the answer to, hit "Reply" (the arrow that looks like "Turn Left Here!") and answer it. Likewise, Reply to commiserate, to empathize, to cheerlead, to offer support, or to proffer virtual chocolate or cupcakes.

(ProTip: Remember - if you send a tweet that begins with another person's Twitter name, only that person and people who follow both of you will see it. If you want everyone who follows you to see what you have to say, your tweet cannot begin with a user name.)

6. Let Lists Filter the Noise.

Every list is a separate party.

If you only hang out with writers, Twitter can be a very cloistered place. Just as you (probably) frequent more than one restaurant and (again, probably) hang out with more than one friend, don't limit yourself to only Tweeting with publishing people.

Frankly, though those in the publishing trenches can help you with your craft and provide much-needed support through the inevitable rejections that accompany the writer's life, those who will get most excited about your book when it finally releases are the ones who aren't obsessed with word count and query letters and character arcs and story beats. In short: Real Live Actual Readers.

Lists can help you keep tabs on different groups of people. Think of each list as a separate cocktail party. I keep a list of agents, one of editors, a few for writers, one for horse tweeps, one for people who are especially cool...

You get the idea.

Curate your own list or follow others'. Either way, jumping onto the timeline of a list can help you focus on a particular topic without getting distracted by the constant stream of random Twitter chatter.

7. Notice your Notifications.

Pay attention to the people who are paying attention to you. Click on your Notifications to see who has mentioned you, or retweeted or favorited something you've posted. 

Of course, you don't have to respond to them all -- just as you don't need to follow everyone who follows you -- but keeping an eye on your Notifications can be a good way to find out who is listening to what you have to say, and building a rapport with them.

8. Talk About Things That Interest You.

If you find something interesting, say so. If you see something interesting, post it. If something cracks you up, share it. If something infuriates you, fling it out there. Let your voice shine through on your Twitter feed as in your other writing.

Don't whine. Don't mope. Don't endlessly self-promote.

Don't post anything you wouldn't want a prospective agent or editor to read because -- I promise -- if they're considering you as a client, they will do their research.

I've met editors with whom I've made publishing deals on Twitter. Thanks to Twitter, I've made solid, lifelong writing friends (@crzywritergrl & @gooddirt: this means you). I've met amazing artists (@xkxdx and @SP_McConnell, fer instance) and musicians (@muz4now). I've learned a ton from the writers, editors, and publishers who selflessly share what they know.

So get out there! As with any party, you'll run into people you like and people you don't. Follow those you do; don't follow those you don't. And if you want to chat about writing or movies or geek stuff or horses or dogs or the ever-delectable Christian Kane, I'm @Museinks. Come and say "hey!"

(Oh, and if you found this post useful and/or interesting, I'd love it if you became a blog follower. All followers get my undying gratitude, figurative gold stars, and all the virtual cinnamon Red Hots they can eat!)

Social Media Manifesto III: Facebook

I was a long-time diehard Facebook fan. I loved reconnecting with people with whom I'd fallen out of touch. I had my fan page and my personal page and networked my blog and everything. And I loved it.

But I didn't love the constantly changing privacy policies. And I didn't love realizing that I'd just spent the past hour and a half reading status updates when I could have been -- should have been -- writing.

For me, the last straw of Facebook came when my child's 1st grade teacher took pictures of the kids in her class and posted them on her page. Soon, people were tagging her with my name and links to my FB page.

Now, I don't put my child's picture online. Ever. To me, that just smacks of exploitation. And the paranoiac in me certainly doesn't want my kid's picture tagged with my name. I know there are a bazillion parents out there happily posting pics of every second of their kids' lives. Well, I'm not one of them.

So time-wasting and photo-tagging trumped (in my opinion) staying in touch with a few people, I got off FB. Went cold turkey. Never missed it, found lots of other ways to procrastinate on my writing, and never looked back...

I was happy being footloose and Facebook free until recently, when a client wanted me to administer their fan page. (Which, incidentally, I set up back in the day...). I fought it. I came up with every reason in the book not to. But the client always wins. Since, not surprisingly, one cannot administer a page without being a member, I was dragged kicking and screaming back to the FB fold.

Here, then, in a nutshell is my Facebook policy:

• I have a personal page, but rarely check in.

• My page is my name. If you'd like to say "hi," feel free. I'll probably respond.

• I only add as friends people I know.

• I have zero interest in anyone's virtual farm, mafia, or zoo. I mean it. Even if it's my own mother: I just don't care. I'm sorry if that comes across as harsh, but I doubt that I'm alone in this.

• I don't have an official "fan page." In my experience, it becomes just one more thing to manage. 

I use social media to stay informed and to stay in touch. I must constantly remember that it is a tool. It is not my reason for living. I was not put here on the planet to raise my Klout score or see if I can get the most Twitter followers, or blog readers, or Facebook fans. I love spending time online meeting and interacting with the wonderful people I meet there, but my life begins when I pull the plug and get down to the business of living.

Social Media Manifesto II: My Take on Triberr

Confession time: I joined Triberr without fully understanding the implications of joining a tribe.

In essence, Triberr expands your blog influence through Twitter. The members of a tribe have an obligation to tweet about each other's blog posts. It's easy! It's "automagical!" All you have to do it set it and forget it.

Within a few days of joining Triberr, I had over 100 hits on my newest blog post. Yay! thought I. This is outstanding! I understood why so many bloggers consider Triberr the best thing since sliced bread.

But then I started thinking. I bake my own bread. And there's a reason for it: I hate the store-bought, no-attention-given-to-it, sliced stuff.

Photo by Kevin Rosseel

I noticed that my Twitter stream was posting links to blogs I'd never read. Most of which were good. Some, however, were not. One mongo-tribe that I joined has over 30 members! This sounds great: Over 30 people tweeting my blog post! Wowsers! But when I read their blogs -- the stuff that I was reciprocating by posting for them -- I was less thrilled.

Don't get me wrong: a lot of the posts were excellent! I regularly shoutout and RT these bloggers anyway. And I met some wonderful new bloggers, which makes any day seem like Christmas. I was honored to be a part of their tribe. However, not all of the over 30 were created equal.

One guy has two Twitter streams in the same tribe. He writes niche novels and his blog exists only to promote his books. Every single post has the phrase "In my book..." in it. There is no content. It's only sales. Now, he has 10x more followers than I. And he dutifully tweeted my blog post. But his click-through rate is abysmal. Maybe he bought his thousands of followers. Maybe they just ignore his self-serving posts. But it concerned me that I had entered into a social contract with someone so clearly bent on self-gratification.

Another member in the mongo-tribe wrote...er... stuff I won't read. The book currently being touted is all about rape and murder and sadistic yuck. If I won't put that kind of thing in my own head, why would I want to tweet about it as if I were encouraging others to?

Some members posted myriad-multiple times a day. Which means that they were commandeering my Twitter feed. I tweet too much as it is on my own, thank you very much. The last thing I want to do is give free rein to someone even more verbose than I.

And some members, sadly, just didn't write blog posts that I'd ever retweet. Like the ones that only quote glowing reviews of their books. Or the ones that have nothing to do with writing or craft. (It's true, I tweet about more than just writing. But the eclectic stuff I post has been read and vetted by me. I think it's interesting and share it. I don't just share it 'cause I know ya.) Or the ones that review video games. It's fine -- in fact, it's GREAT -- that someone blogs about that stuff. I just don't want to be in the position where I feel obliged to put it out there.

Photo by Agatha Brown

Triberr kind of pushed me over the edge. It seemed so wonderful: new readers! New tweeps! New followers! New friends! What's not to like? But I felt very quickly overwhelmed. On Thursday, I realized that I had spent ALL fr$&!@king day on social media. And zero time writing.

Now this is entirely my fault. Mine and mine alone. I take full responsibility. But as I was mulling over "where on earth did my time go?" I had the second realization that I had auto-tweeted a bunch of my Tribesmates (tribestweeps? tribesmembers? Hmmm...) stuff without even realizing it. And I heard about it from my followers. Because when they clicked on what I sent, they didn't see what they were used to seeing. Which made me realize that I was recommending stuff without reading it. Which is something I hate in others.

So this past weekend I called a meeting with myself. Pulled the SM plug. Spent some time thinking long and hard about what I was accomplishing with all this SM interaction. And I came to the inescapable realization that I am spending more time on SM stuff than I am on writing.

This, I told myself, was unacceptable. I have become the employee who spends too much work time online. Except I work for me.  Not only was my boss unhappy with my productivity levels, but my SM friends were beginning to question my judgment. It was time for serious housekeeping. 

So, feeling that I couldn't in good conscience keep up with my end of the social contract, I quit the mondo-tribe.

This was not a thing I took lightly. I stressed about it for several days, weighing the pros and cons of remaining. I feel badly about leaving: some of the writers in it are fantastic. But ultimately, I felt that it was taking me more time to pick and choose content -- to browse through all that was offered and determine what I wanted to bring to the attention of my followers -- than it was worth.

My biggest problem with Triberr is the thing that most people love about it. I don't like the automation. I don't like looking at my Twitter feed and seeing stuff I've posted that I didn't know about. It makes me feel like I've given free-rein to someone else and turned an imposter loose with my Twitter account. It's the whole homemade bread thing, dontchaknow

This, then, is my Triberr policy:

• All auto-posting is turned off. No one gets an automatic thumbs up. From now on, I will read all Triberr members' posts before I post them.

• I'll only tweet about stuff I like. My loyalty to my Twitter followers comes first. My tribe members come second.

• I'll make an honest effort to list all tribe members and follow their Twitter streams. When possible, I'll RT things they say. But I won't pander to blatant self promoters.

• I would sooner close my Triberr affiliation than lose writing time. If my Triberr policy becomes too time consuming, then either a tribe, or the whole Triberr shebang, is gone.
  

 How do you feel about Triberr -- either as a member or from reading a Triberr member's Twitter stream? What's your policy when it comes to auto-tweeting?

Social Media Manifesto I: Twitter Rules

I never wanted to be on Twitter. But a writer friend set me up on Twitter and Tweetdeck while I was at her house one day and I was very quickly sold.

Twitter affords me the opportunity to talk with people all over the world. I have Twitter friends in London, Sweden, Australia, Japan, and Scotland.

Twitter lets me connect with other writers and with readers. It also grants me access to the innermost thoughts of agents, editors, and publishers. Interestingly enough, I find that the Twitter feeds of writers overwhelmingly tend toward the positive, while those of the agents tend to be snark-filled.

Thanks to Twitter, I've discovered new writers that I love and new agents that I admire. I've also run across writers that I wouldn't read if you paid me and agents who are so vitriolic that I wouldn't want
them repping me even if it meant a quick, sure sale. Shortly after I joined, I mused about life lessons I've learned from Twitter. They still hold.

My Twitter Rules:

• If you mention me (@MuseInks), I'll send you a thank you. And I'll mean it. But if you're one of those who RTs every mention, I'll stop thanking you for the shoutouts. That sort of thing is just a social media vicious circle and it wastes my time.

• I won't follow you just because you ask me to for the same reason I don't buy every thing I see an advertisement for. Give me a reason to follow you and I will.

• I don't care if I have a million followers. I'd rather have just a few who read what I say and who respond to me.

• I don't automatically follow back if you follow me. It depends on your Twitter page (I look at the feeds of everyone before I follow). If you only tweet about something you're trying to sell, or if you never RT, or if you tweet only quotes, or if you never engage your followers in conversation, I won't follow you. Why would I?

• I personally approve all content in my Twitter feed. I might schedule a tweet for a later time, but not before vetting the content. I won't auto-tweet.

This last rule leads me to my issues with Triberr. More on that tomorrow...

In the meantime, what rules do you have for your Twitter & SM accounts? How do you manage them and make them work best for you?

Life Lessons I've Learned from Twitter

For the longest time, I was one of those “I don’t understand the point of Twitter” people. It all seemed so pointless – the online equivalent of thousands of people congregating on a street corner and yelling "Hey! Hey! Hey!" and “Listen to me!”

But then my friend, the social media-savvy @QuiltinRedhead set me up with a Twitter account while I was visiting at her house. Suddenly, a whole new world opened up: a world where literary agents bemoaned getting sick & housebound while on a family vacation, where editors from respectable publishing houses confessed their weakness for cute baby animal pictures, and where struggling writers have exactly the same opportunity as literary luminaries.

I have her to thank for all the connections I have made. (I could also make a case for blaming her for the time I have wasted tweeting when I should be working.)

And I have Twitter to thank for several life lessons I have learned in the few months that I’ve been a tweetin’. For instance:

LESSON #1: You Can Never Have Too Many Friends

Some of my favorite Twitter voices are of a scathingly funny acquisitions editor in Chicago, a rabid “Chuck” fan in New Jersey, an aspiring writer in Sweden, and two relentlessly acerbic literary agents – one in New York, the other in London. I call these, and a good portion of the over 200 people I follow “friends.” I like to believe that if I met these folks in Real Life, we would, indeed, hit it off.

I choose to follow these people – quirks and all. Some are more talkative than others. Some rarely speak up. Some share intimate personal details: wardrobe malfunctions, bodily effluvia, childhood trauma… Some are unfailingly optimistic. Others are incorrigible pessimists.

These people allow me glimpses into their lives on a regular basis. Whenever I choose to check in, several of them are already there. Instead of a big, noisy streetcorner, it’s more like the student center in University: someone’s always hanging out, willing to talk. I can listen in to a multitude of conversations, introduce one interesting person to another, and contribute if I have something of note.

Those who stay on my follow list are those who are interesting and who have something relevant to say. I believe that I can never have too many people like that in my life.

LESSON #2: You Don’t Owe Nobody Nuthin’

I am not an auto-follower. If someone follows me, I find out who they are. I read their recent tweets. I visit their website. More often than not, I follow them back. (I’m a dyed-in-the-wool people watcher and love hearing what others have to say. LESSON #1 is one of my life’s governing principles.)

I don’t have to believe what someone else does in order to find that person interesting. I follow atheists, Jews, agnostics, and Christians, male & female, right- and left-wingers, gay & straight, published & unpublished.

However, I don’t automatically add a new follower to my list. In fact, I actively block people from following me if they appear to be spammers (1500 tweets, all on “How To Make $$ On Twitter In Just 5 Minutes a Day!”) or shameless self-promoters (1500 tweets all linking to a single website: theirs).

My time is mine. And I admit to a certain penchant for spending too much time as it is reading the tweets of people I actually like. I don’t want tweets from bots, spammers, or egotists clogging my Twitter stream. I don’t owe anyone a follow-back. Furthermore, if I follow someone and decide that I’m no longer interested in what they have to say, I don’t have to remain a follower. In Twitter, as in life, sometimes things are better if we just part ways and move on.

LESSON #3: Time Is Currency

I charge an hourly rate for my professional services. I am not inclined to alter that rate downward or (God forbid) to begin giving away my work for free.

Time is a finite commodity. Every day, I am given a specific amount and forced to spend it all. I cannot make more of it. I cannot save what I have not spent and bank it. I cannot have poor time decisions refunded or credited to my account.

Twitter, like all activities, takes time. It is up to me to determine how much of my time is well-spent interacting with my “tweeps.” It is also my responsibility to impose limits to the time I spend online so I remain both professionally productive and actively engaged in my Real Life.

LESSON #4: Everybody Thinks You’re Talking to Them

An incident last week in which an innocent tweet about one thing nearly lost me a client and – more importantly – a friend illustrated a significant thing about Twitter that had previously been lost to me: I must assume that every person who reads my tweets will think he or she is the subject of what I have to say.

Let’s say, for instance, that my beta reader takes me to task for a lack of detailed research in my historical novel. I might then post something like: If you’re going to write about the past, take the trouble to actually learn about the time period! Readers aren't idiots.

If, however, at the same time I am working with a writer who is also working on a historical, it stands to reason that this writer might read the angry words directed at my own shortcomings and think I was publicly flogging his work.

I have been guilty of this “they’re-talking-about-me” mentality, too. If I submit something to an agent I follow, who then tweets scathing comments about stupid writer mistakes on #queryfail, I sometimes have a moment of panic. Likewise, when an editor I follow tweets about discovering a wonderful new author, and I know that a manuscript of mine is in her slushpile, I want to sacrifice a chicken or dance naked on the lawn in the hopes that she’s talking about me.

The point (aside from dead poultry and a flagrant violation of our township’s lawn decoration ordinances) is that because of the nature of Twitter, the tweets we read can feel much more personal than feeds we get from other sources. I learned a great deal from my almost-disastrous encounter and have since altered the tone of several tweets for fear of inadvertently offending others who thought I was talking about them.

What about you? Have you caught the Twitter bug? If so, what has it taught you lately?