To be online or not to be online that is the question. My apologies to William S. That’s what pretentious writers call him (wink wink). Since the dawn of social media, one of the more contentious issues has been whether or not a writer benefits from social media. The buzz in the ether is that a writer needs to have an online platform. From my personal experience that version of ether seems to be mostly made up of nitrous oxide.
Unlike the countenance from the ether, my blog does not focus on a giving advice on a particular topic. Any topics I am an expert on have nothing to do with writing and would probably leave the gentle reader passed out and drooling on their phone, keyboard, iPad…you get the idea. I am stubbornly clinging to using my blog to “showcase my sense of humor.” Don’t ask me why. Perhaps showcase is not the correct term. Perhaps it should be “exposing the public to the horrors of a mind that manages to prompt the question “This man is left unsupervised?”
Sometimes I get an idea and don’t quit on it. I finally gave up on trying to find an agent for my first book about George W. Bush lost in time. Yeah it’s a bit dated at this point. Some voices in the ether would whisper “self publish” but then again I would bring up the a fore mentioned nitrous oxide. In my constant effort of building a writers platform I decided that I would commit wholeheartedly to Instagram. Ignoring the fact the other social media platforms have let me down.
Not having much interaction with Instagram before, I was in for a rude awakening and by rude I mean tossed into the real world like an Amish schoolboy dumped in the middle of Times Square circa 1985. If your not familiar with the concept, think of cops standing on the same street corner as crack dealers and only being there for more serious crimes.
Since creating my Instagram account complete with head-shot, I have been inundated with all kinds of “shopping” opportunities. These opportunities offered all kinds of products and services involving ladies, both legal and illegal.
It’s as almost as if I walked into a Gentleman’s club and yelled “I have a wad of cash and I’m lonely” without the collateral damage a lady stampede would cause.
Suffice it to say I have concluded that my experimentation with Instagram as a a writers platform has been an abject failure. If by some miracle you have found this post by following an Instagram link, I am not interested in moving to a different app for a more private discussion thank you.