1) Writers are troubled people. Have sympathy.
No one likes to promote themselves. It’s one of those things, like hemorrhoids and hair loss, that most of us will have to deal with but prefer not to discuss. (In “all” I, of course, exclude Ryan Seacrest and at least five Kardashian sisters.) But it is especially tough for writers: a species defined by our congenital habit of roaming urban enclaves with stooped backs, alternately developing variously decent ideas in coffee shops and crying into the closest gutter in fear that said ideas aren’t good enough. (I know: I make it sound so bad. It is.)
2) Everyone needs a (shhh) platform.
And yet. We’ve all got to do it. The last time I spoke with a publishing professional, she whispered the word platform so cautiously it was as though she feared anyone overhearing might realize that writers have platforms for our own self-gain as opposed to that of starving Somalian refugees or Syrian freedom fighters. She told me that, in order to have a (shhh) platform, and more specifically, in order to ever have a book published by anyone other than Amazon or my 101-year old Jewish grandmother, I should have a website.
3) Boys who make websites are elusive.
So, I set to work heeding the professional’s advice — only to realize that the one guy I know who builds websites had a vague and fleeting interest in kissing me during the summer of 2010. At present, he would seem to have an even less focused interest in making me famous. Inconvenient.
Post by Elizabeth Tannen