Rip Van Winkle Flogs Her Blog

So what would I rather do? Work on my Facebook page, as I’ve promised Claire Fontaine, my “social media” assistant, that I would do today, or find a new faucet for my bathroom sink? Yes, those of you who have read my previous columns, you are right. I would much rather scan the Internet for a porcelain faucet to replace the one on my ancient sink that can no longer be repaired than upload images to my book page. Why is this? Because once I find the right faucet, I can hire a plumber to do the job and it will be done: my sink will stop leaking (as it has for three years, making me feeling ecologically incorrect—bad enough that I run water when I brush my teeth—a new crime I was unaware of committing), and I will have accomplished something that is sure to give me satisfaction, despite the fact that dealing with plumbers is always an outrageously expensive affair. Whereas—probably should not start a sentence with whereas—anyway, whereas uploading images to my book page on Facebook will cause me hours of agony (though free) because I still don’t understand what I’m doing (it’s hit or miss) and an entirely uncertain outcome. The plan is to invite readers—readers, is that the word?—visitors to the page to post their own family photos, so that we can share the experience of reclaiming our legacy, whatever it may be, and incite others to undertake their own journey into the past and its mysteries. But maybe my Facebook friends (another problem in itself: how is someone you don’t know, a friend?) won’t find this exercise intriguing, and I’ll have spent my time in vain, and merely appear narcissistic (the curse of the autobiographer).

In an autobiographical moment, one of my favorite writers, especially when he analyzes the practice of writing, which he does often, the French critic Roland Barthes, describes how easily he is distracted from doing his work, while spending the summer in the country. “Here is the list of distractions I incur every five minutes: spray a mosquito, cut my nails, eat a plum, take a piss, check the faucet to see if the water is still muddy (there was a breakdown in the plumbing today) [hmm, maybe it’s my memory of this passage that made me think of my sink], go to the drugstore, walk down to the garden to see how many nectarines have ripened on the tree, look at the radio-program listings, rig up a stand to hold my papers, etc.” (Roland Barthes by Roland Barthes). OK, True, I’m not in the country, I’m in the city this summer, in my apartment in Manhattan, where the nectarines are chilling in the refrigerator, but how many of us could not make a similar list? Only my problem isn’t sitting down to write (or stay sitting down), but staying focused on the social media task.

No day without a line. That’s a motto I once learned about the writer’s credo. Now it’s no day without a post, without shameless begging for attention: wouldn’t you like me to come and talk about my book? Review it?

Social media, s/m. Why submit to this regime? Isn’t it a form of sado-masochism?

But of course, who is making us do this, if not ourselves? And haven’t the desire for our books to be well received and disappointment when they aren’t always been part of the writer’s condition? My friend and colleague, the poet and critic Wayne Koestenbaum, has just published a brilliant book titled simply Humiliation, in which he details, among other things, in numbered fragments, the occasions for feeling shame at various stages of publication: “22: An acquaintance who worked for Random House told me, ‘I’m the reason that Random House rejected your book.’ He smiled. I pretended to consider his confession witty and piquant.” And this (having just seen that a “used” copy of my book is already for sale on Amazon before it has even been published!): “23. I have two of my poetry books, warmly inscribed, to a major poet. A few years later, my protégé told me that she’d found those very copies, with their embarrassingly effusive inscriptions, at a used-book store.” So, in a way, as far as shame at obligatory self-exposure goes, or fear of rejection, only the social media part is new.

But if blogging, as one flogs one’s future book, often feels like painful self-flagellation, there is also a reward in the pleasure derived from the solidarity of the social network (and I’m not referring to the movie). One of the great and surprising things about having the chance to write this blog is hearing from fellow writers. And perhaps the greatest reward is exactly that--the concrete acknowledgment that however solitary writing is, the lived experience of being a writer can be shared. It's why Kamy founded She Writes and Maya Nussbaum created Girls Write Now, and why I've come to see, now that I'm one blog away from finishing the Countdown schedule, that I will miss this opportunity to put my private fretting into a public but safe place.

Tags: Facebook, GirlsWriteNow,, autobiography, humiliation, procrastination, sado-masochism

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Comment by Nancy K. Miller on August 29, 2011 at 12:24pm: So how do you think people choose/find which books to buy?

Does anyone read reviews anymore? And which ones?

Comment by Ann B. Elwood on August 29, 2011 at 11:01am: I wonder, too, if readers of blogs are buyers of books. I wouldn't be surprised to find out that success in this business is far more mysterious than the "experts" would have us believe.

Comment by Mariana Dietl on August 29, 2011 at 10:57am: Thanks for your post, Nancy!!! And for all the comments! I'm glad to find people -and specially writers!- who feel as I do about social media. I also feel that social media feels like s/m or forced prostitution.I've only recently joined the online community (facebook et al), after attending a seminar called "Writers in the Internet Age: How to Promote your Work in Social Media". I feel we have no other option than to be "out there", building our "platform," and yet it is true, nobody forces us to do it, it is our own decision, even if it goes against our personality, even if instinctively it doesn't feel right, and even if we have to sacrifice time for writing, with our kids, partner, real "offline" friends, etc, to have an online presence. It's all so confusing, and as you say, Nancy, we're not even sure about the results! Is it all worth it?

Comment by Nancy K. Miller on August 29, 2011 at 10:40am: Oh, no---something new on Facebook! Just when....

And then there's Google +, but I decided I could not add a single other thing....

I heard on NPR that at M.I. T. there's a competition for the best "elevator pitch"--where nerds have to sell their bright idea to investors in 60 seconds....Also training for it.

But best of all, watched on TCM Judy Holliday in It Should Happen To You (1954) where a woman tries to make herself known by putting her name on billboards all over New York City. I won't spoil the plot....

An object lesson ahead of its time...

Comment by Cori Howard on August 29, 2011 at 10:37am: I'm with you, too. S.M. indeed. I'd rather do anything else than be forced to prove my "platform." Most frustrating is that in these times of transition in the publishing world - at the crossroads of a so-called new frontier - the "new" rules, ie social media every day, only apply to some people. I still know writers without a blog, without a following, and they still get big deals. So it all feels very confusing. And you pointed to something I've been wondering a lot lately: are website visitors really readers?

Comment by Julie Farrar on August 29, 2011 at 10:19am: One of my most hated words today is "platform." Shakespeare never tweeted a line, but the world still knows his name. Whenever I'm trying to master anything in this confusing world of social media (I have to learn something new about Facebook again this week? Didn't I just change everything last week?) I really think this is time I'm not spending on writing.

Comment by Helen W. Mallon on August 29, 2011 at 10:02am: I love it!

Agh! I am at library without internet or power post-irene and my husband is tugging at me to go. Wish i could make a more thought-out comment.

Comment by AngryCat on August 29, 2011 at 12:39am: Yo, Bonnie - there's an upside to it: I "met" lot's of interesting authors social media-wise & learnedsome things about myself. F. i. when I started to ask Nancy to be a facebook-"friend" and then stopped, pondering: Why, she's Jewish, I'm part German, how will this sit with her... got me in contact with feelings I'd thought were long gone.

Comment by Bonnie Trachtenberg on August 27, 2011 at 9:51am: No truer words...I've never in my life had the inclination to "impose" myself on others in any way. Now I've been experiencing all kinds of guilt for bombarding everyone I know with Wedlocked news. Interesting how often it's other writers who understand the graveling position I'm in and are therefore the first to "like" my pages, follow me back and view and post comments to my blog, even before my friends. Writers' solidarity is the saving grace...and hopefully sales too!!

Comment by Nancy K. Miller on August 27, 2011 at 9:48am: As for drowning, that will be the subject of next and final countdown--as in NY we await Irene....

Those marvelous lines from Stevie Smith: I was much further out than you thought/And not waving but drowning...

Yes, flogger and floggee...and as women, aren't we especially good at this? At least I was--an emotional masochist in my former life (before the catsuit)....

So why don't we rise up? That's what I ask myself...