BRAINPAN LEAKAGE

Yep. I’m on Twitter. I’ve blogged about it before. Hell, I even toss a bit of flash fiction out there every now and again.

Recently, however, I was on a panel at a SF/Fantasy Con… Actually, I was on a crapload of panels, but that’s not the point. I’m talking about a specific panel – that being a “Social Media” panel. I was really the odd man out on this particular gig. All of the other authors seemed to know one another, whereas I had no friggin’ clue who any of them were, nor they me. So, they all sort of sat toward one end and left me to make sure the opposite end of the table didn’t float away. All good. Just to be sure, though, I checked – I DID use deodorant that day, so that shouldn’t have been a problem. Of course, it didn’t really matter much because 75% of the audience attending the panel happened to be close, personal friends with one of the other authors on the panel, so I probably could have stayed at the bar drinking beer with some folks. At any rate, I didn’t do that. I showed up, I tossed my opinion in there every now and then. Got a few blank stares from the other panelists. Engaged in one of those nifty marketing tactics by handing out some free books. Answered the question, “Why are you handing out free books?” Stared blankly back at them when they couldn’t grasp WHY I would hand out free books even after I told them why. You know, the regular drill…

I know… So what… Big deal. (2 points to anyone who gets that obscure movie reference…)

The thing is, Twitter was one of the topics. Well duh… of course it was, Sellars. Social Media. Twitter. Yadda yadda.

Okay, okay. So THE thing is, one of the other authors on the panel concluded, announced, and/or otherwise stated that one tweet a day is more than enough. In fact, she went on to say that she had made it a point to UNfollow other authors – whose work she enjoyed – because they had the unabashed nerve… the pure audacity… the unbelievable lack of restraint… and tweeted 12 times in one day.

12 times.

One day.

That being 24 hours.

24/12 = 2.

An average of one tweet every two hours.

I don’t know about you but that seems like a pretty laconic tweeter to me.

Even if we are talking about 12 tweets in the span of one hour, that would be what? One tweet every five minutes… Still pretty reserved if you ask me. However, that’s apparently still way too much. It interferes with the busy schedules of others – all that incessant chattering, ya’know… An absolute din of 140 character info bytes causing a “visual cacophony” in the glassballs…

But hey, whatever trips your trigger. Follow, unfollow, I don’t really give a flying rat’s whatsits. I personally see Twitter as yelling into the void and hoping someone hears you. Hasn’t stopped me from yelling into the void, of course, but I don’t really count on anyone hearing, or taking notice if they do. Just one of those things.

Still, for me, the anti-tweeter mentality sort of begs the question, if you’re so damn busy then why are you on Twitter so much? And moreover, why the hell are you counting other people’s tweets?

OCD much?

Later…

Murv

Hello, everyone. My name is M. R. Sellars. I’m a writer and it has been 68 days since my last blog post…

Yes, Brainpan Leakage has been woefully lacking in posts as of late. Well, woefully for some, perhaps a relief for others. Who knows? At any rate, I used to make it a point to stick to suggested convention and blog at least twice each week. It was fun while it lasted, but after a few years I discovered that social media – including regular bloggage – had become the time suck I had long feared it would. So, I went sort cold turkey. Actually, it was more Maker’s Mark on the rocks, but you get the idea.

And so, here I am, sorta blogging again. Not planning to fall back into the well with Timmy, though. He’s been down there so long he’s pretty corpsified and gross at this point. Damned Lassie. Never send a collie to do the job of a Basset Hound.

But I digress (Yeah, some things never change…)

What I came here to yammer about today is the fact that we seem to have a pandemic on our hands.

“What kind of pandemic?” you ask.

Well, near as I can tell, it is a pandemic of epic proportions. Not since the Holy Bible has there been such a global plague, and that plague seems to be attacking only the fairer sex. Yes, you ladies are those who are apparently in danger. You see, this is a case of widespread sexual frustration. Of course, not ALL women have succumbed to the virus. It appears that there are some who are immune, however, they are few and far between.

How have I arrived at this? Simple. Soccer moms getting all hot and bothered over Edward the Tinkerbell Vampire. As you can plainly see, it’s not just sexual frustration, in some cases it’s creepy pseudo-pedophile sort of sexual frustration. Can I get a collective “Ewwww!” from the audience? Yep. Thought I could.

Of course, it doesn’t stop there. Since confessionals were becoming overcrowded, and mattresses were catching fire from the hot fantasy prose penned in diaries kept tucked between mattresses, someone even took it upon herself to create some Twilight Fan-Fic BDSM Soccer Mom Porn titled 50 Shades of Grey. It’s on the NYT Bestseller list and is making all sorts of cash. That should tell you something right there.

But (saw that coming, right?)

But, it STILL doesn’t stop there… Over an above a plethora of fan-fic sort of f*ck stories propagating across the intertoobz, as well as the tried and true bodice rippers filling book racks in airports and news stands, there is a groundswell of demands for more. How do I know this? Well, I’ll tell you…

After IN THE BLEAK MIDWINTER hit the shelves I started getting emails and comments from fans. Fortunately, they liked it, which made reading said comments and emails much easier. However… the ongoing theme in all of these communications that bore a decidedly female name was this: Will Ben and Constance “get together” in the next book? When will Ben and Constance be “getting together”? I can’t wait for Ben and Constance to “get together”. Let’s hope Ben and Constance “get together”… ad nauseum.

Since Ben and Constance are already dating, it’s not hard to figure out – especially when you add in all the wink wink nudge nudges in the emails – that what “get together” means is, to paraphrase Alex in A Clockwork Orange, “A bit of the old in-out, in-out…”

See what I mean? This epidemic has spread like wildfire. I mean, come on. Neither Ben nor Constance are Vampires, and they sure as hell don’t sparkle…

So, what can we do about this? Sadly, not much. However, don’t be disheartened, ladies; it’s okay. Men have been porn addicted since the dawn of time. We just have shorter attention spans, which is why we gravitate toward pictures instead of prose…

More To Come – (make of that what you will, you dirty minded little baboons…)

Until the next time,

M