I had a great weekend with my girlfriends at the beach and the best thing about it was all the laughing. I’m talking about pee-in-your pants laughing over awesome things such as bemoaning the lack of a real boa constrictor for my friend Erica to use when doing her Britney “I’m a Slave for You” video reenactment. I feel good coming off two days of outlet shopping and acting like a dork and wearing sweat pants. I also purchased incredibly impractical faux fur-lined boots. It was nice, for a while, to not worry about blog posts, tweets, Goodreads stars, Amazon rankings, relevant Facebook updates, NaNo word count, typos, or the undercurrent of competition and dramah that sometimes pops up unexpectedly in my beloved indie community. Notice I didn’t say writing. I love the writing even when it’s not going well and I think about it constantly. I understand that all the other stuff is what comes with being an indie and that it’s all necessary, but I’m not sure I have to be so involved that it takes away most of my writing time.
I think the best “marketing” move I ever made was just to keep writing and putting out more quality material for people to read. More books to choose from=more sales. If that ain’t the DUH of the century. So, if you don’t see me around on Twitter or Goodreads as much it’s because I’m busy writing (and doing laundry and cutting up apples for my kids and giving my ancient dog Ophelia her meds and going to the grocery store and watching Glee) and worrying less about my stats. I’m not giving up social media altogether, that would be a silly and idiotic move, but I am only going to check things twice a day or once a week instead of hourly. Like with any other work from home job, you gotta prioritize and the past couple of months I’ve been living in a “what I think other people expect me to do” kind of world as opposed to a “doing what I need to do” world.
And now, because everyone needs some sexy on a Monday afternoon: