That’s right. I caved. I joined twitter. Look for me under “shestartedit.” I did not really care to join twitter. Also, I don’t totally “get” twitter. But I’m willing to throw myself into it to at least try it out. Follow me and let me know if I sound like an idiot, will you?
It’s this post from one of my favorite agent blogs that finally made me bite the bullet. I’d heard for months that it’s important to be on a variety of social networks to build your platform. But seeing it spelled out for me, made me think I should give it a try.
So I’m officially a Nit Twit.
The same day I signed up for twitter, my friend Miriam sent me a link to join SheWrites, a social networking site for women writers! As someone who is in the process of looking for agents for two different projects, it could not have come at a better time. Please join and look for me over there.
I realize I haven’t said anything about Michael Jackson’s death. I have not watched news coverage of the aftermath, nor did I watch the memorial service. I find the whole thing incredibly sad, particularly for his kids. But to be quite honest, I find the coverage of him to be so hypocritical. No one has given a rat’s ass about him since Thriller, unless they were making fun of him. Last week while standing in line at the grocery store, I was leafing through People magazine. The last page was entitled “Wacko Jacko” something or other, and was about how MJ had started wearing women’s clothes. The magazine was distributed before he died, and still in circulation after his death.
This morning I loaded the girls up in the minivan for a trip to the pool. Before we even made it out of our subdivision, rain started hammering my windshield. One block later, the thunder and lightening forced me into a complete turn-around. Once back at the house, the girls settled themselves at the table with crayons and paper. I leafed through our CD book (yes, we are retro here and listen to things called CDs) and found The Jackson 5 Ultimate Collection.
I cranked it up, and as the pellets of rain pounded our windows, we danced like hell around the living room in our bathing suits.
No, there will certainly never, ever be another MJ.