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The release of my new book
has encouraged me to pause and reflect on this unexpected and occasionally
awkward path I’ve chosen as an author, awkward for a horse anyway.
Take social media. Yes, I
know it’s a must for bloggers and other aspiring aspirers. Whether pitching
fat-free cupcakes or recipes for kale soufflé, savvy cooks everywhere are
online chatting up their prospects. Frankly, I fell for it. Despite taking a
ribbing from my gin rummy club, I made a pass at promoting an Equine Epicurean
Delight Cookbook. That was until Google Analytics sent a report saying my
recipes contained too much fiber for anyone under the age of 70.
Anyhoo, I now find myself
grappling with a dainty iMac keyboard designed for fingers not hooves. Consider
Wordpress. When Madam told me it was my job to manage the “back door” of my
Wordpress website, I thought she meant the back door—that place where the
Waconia Feed and Seed deposits my groceries. But no, instead I’m busy uploading
blog posts and trying to size photos smaller than a barn door. An attempt to upload
a glamor shot of myself resulted in a close up of my left nostril.
Then there’s the Facebook
challenge. I’m never short of things to say, but getting the words right side
up on the screen can be technical quicksand for a horse. That, plus fans ask me
bewildering questions. “Can I come to work for you?” queried a teenage girl.
“Will you marry me?” came from a divorcee in Cincinnati. “What musical
instrument do you play?” asked a Bob Dylan fan from Duluth. Following that last
question, a band director from Fargo offered to teach me how to play the
trombone. It’s a mystery.
So, my friend Gabe the
cribbage whiz said he would help me set up a Twitter account. By the way, Gabe,
who happens to be a retired show jumper, spends a lot of time online studying
cribbage Cliffs Notes. This explains why he never loses a game. I naturally
assumed he knew something about Twitter. He did, or at least he knew enough to
set up my account. He then shouted ciao and departed for Las Vegas leaving me
to manage the fallout.
Let me add, my first Twitter
follower was a woman who called herself Sweet Cheeks and wanted to meet me
under the Yum Yum tree. The next arrival claimed her name was Anything Goes.
This one included an impressive photo of her entire self as evidence that
anything and everything had already gone. Her dress, that was. This alerted me
to change my profile from tall, dark and handsome fellow to tall, dark and
handsome gelding. It helped.
So my social media experiment
continues to unfold. This morning I’m building a case on Pinterest with
charming photos of myself originally intended for use on Match.com. Meanwhile
it’s almost noon, and I have yet to post anything worth reading on Linkedin.