Maybe I should just go ahead and admit that I'm not a fashion forward person. I didn't get the Jennifer Aniston haircut until, like, five years after its debut. In high school, I resisted wearing capris until I saw at least half the female school population wearing them. I bought my first pair of skinny jeans only a short three years ago because I was in such deep denial about the fact that they were even popular, that I insisted on pretending they didn't exist. And I'm pretty sure Aztec print won't be a prominent feature in my living room until at least two years from now. At which point it really shouldn't be in my living room or anywhere else in my house or on my person.
But the more serious sin, I recently realized, is that I am not a tech-forward person either.
I didn't have a cell phone until 2000.
I never joined MySpace.
I didn't set up my first blog until 2006.
Facebook did not have my face on it until 2008.
Instagram has been around for how many years (Seriously, how many? I don't have any idea.), and I only just signed up a couple of months ago.
Vine? What's a vine?
And then there's Twitter. Which, when my husband introduced me to it YEARS ago, I swore would be completely useless and obsolete in no time, because how in the world can people be expected to say ANYTHING they really want to say in so few words. And why would anyone need to use a pound sign before a phrase or a word, anyway?
Well, it just so happens that I recently gave in to the Twitter pressure and set up an account. And then realized that I have never been so completely remiss in all my existence on this planet!
I love to write and dream of being a "real life" author someday. I have been working on a book (ok, several really, but I hate the thought that I only start and don't finish) for about seven years now. Seven years! To be fair, those seven years have consisted of graduating college, the arrival of four kids (including twins), Graves Disease, various writing conferences and classes, a couple of published magazine articles (ok, one published and one to-be-published soon), and five moves. But, hey, who's making excuses? The point is, I am FINALLY almost ready to start pitching to literary agents.
Um, well, guess where literary agents hang out. That's right! On Twitter. They are ALL OVER Twitter. Everywhere. Not only are they just there for the following, but they actually tell their followers what kinds of submissions they are looking for. And sometimes they all gather together for these things called Pitch Fests, or PitchMAS (Get it, like Christmas? Oh, of course you get it. I did too. Seriously.), or pitch parties. And hopefuls like me can just toss a pitch out there for a whole crowd of expectant agents, just waiting for that perfect idea to hit them over the head (or just float non-violently into their outstretched hands).
So, it is time to make my Twitter debut. As of tonight, I will be a Twitter Virgin no more. I will get out there and tell all those agents about my book and how great it is and why they should represent me and not the thousands of other hopefuls just like me all over the world.
As long as I can figure out how to do that in 140 characters or fewer.